


Clay's Bizarre Adventure: 13 Metal Gears Why

by Gregory_Pensworth



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV), Metal Gear, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2020-08-20 21:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 69,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gregory_Pensworth/pseuds/Gregory_Pensworth
Summary: Clay was just an average homegrown American boy. He lived a pretty simple life until the death of his main homie, Hannah Baker, screwed things up. Strange things had always been happening in his town, but it was only until after her death that he began to notice. With the help of a gruff snake themed man, Clay begins to learn what secrets his classmates hold, and just how bizarre life can be.





	1. Clay Jensen; A Diamond In The Rough

It was a beautiful sunny morning in the world of Earth. The flowers continued existence, the birds sang sweet songs of secret code, and the sun continued to shine down on humanity in order to further the lives of all the miserable inhabitants of the planet. Yep, it was indeed a pretty good day, better than most one would say. But not too great. Anyway, that shit doesn't matter for one boy though; a boy by the name of Clay Jensen. There was no grin forming on his face muscles, no, it was just a dour frown for him as he awoke. Awoke into a world without the hippest gal he had ever met, Hannah Baker. Her smile, her hair, the way she'd never pay him back after bumming like $15 off of him for pizza which she wouldn't even share, ah yes he remembered it all. But that was in the past, she was gone now, gone like long grass on a middle aged father's lawn.

Clay sighed, he knew he couldn't lay in bed all day, after all, he had a schoolhouse to attend. So without much leg motion or motivation, Clay dragged himself into his personal restroom and crawled into the sink, activating it so that he may cleanse himself. As Clay lied in his sink like some sort of over grown baby bird in a bird bath, the boy looked over to his bathtub. And as usual he was unable to face it. Hannah had died in a bathtub after all, how could he forgive the object meant to hold water for cleaning the human body? And thus Clay continued to let the sink water wash over him and overflow onto the floor.

The noise of a water falling upon the floor in an overflowing manner caught the attention of Clay's mother, who was none to pleased. "For the love of- Clay! Are you fucking sitting in your sink again!?" The lack of a response from her youth only angered the ace attorney mother more, "If you are I swear I will beat the shit out of you!"

Deciding he was clean enough, and wanting to avoid the kneecapping from his mum, Clay got out of his sink and clothed himself. With the teenage angst housed within him, Clay stomped down the stairs and absently stared at his parents. His father was standing by the coffee maker and smoking a doobie, while his mother was sitting at the dining table sorting through her important notes of important law.

"Hey Clay, are you a complete dumbass?" the mother shot the question with mouth precision.

"No I-"

Clay's mom cut him off with more words of anger, "Then stop acting like one! Why the fuck do you keep sitting in your sink!?"

"Well I-"

"Whatever," the mother cut off once more, delivering a swift smack to Clay's head before she exited the room.

Clay's father from across the way took a puff of his totally legal substance and comforted, "Don't let her get to ya sport, she's just stressed from all of her legal work."

The boy named Clay sighed, "Right..."

Checking his watch like a father would, Clay's father threw his mary jane into the coffee pot and began to make an exit. With a tussle to his son's hair, the father of Clay departed out the door with, "Sorry sport, but I gotta head down to the old farm and make sure Bruce got all the orphans working in the fields. The new batch has some fighters in it!" the father exclaimed with the joy of breaking the spirit of parentless youths.

And so the boy was alone in his home. Clay appreciated his mother for her occasional kindness and a job that supported them. And his father.... Well Clay wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand he was definitely involved with some illegal shit, but he never brought any bad business home, and he did buy Clay that Xbox he wanted. Not to mention he told really good dad jokes. In fact he told one during Hannah's funeral and Clay couldn't help but laugh through his tears. Hannah's family wasn't too thrilled about it though...... But the sound of a mighty car horn honk brought Clay out of such family thoughts and made him look out the window. Sitting in his sick red hotrod was none other than Tony, Clay's only living friend and one of the coolest greasers around.

With toast in mouth and bag in hand, Clay ran out the door and summersaulted into the car of redness. "Hey Tony," Clay greeted, "thanks for giving me a lift to school."

"No problem," Tony said with a cool tip of his dark sunglasses. With words exchanged Tony sped off down the neighborhood roadway at speeds of 66MPH in a 21MPH zone. With the slickness of a motorcycle riding cheetah, Tony was able to dodge many truant children and brittle old timers with ease.

Clay looked on at his friend with admiration but he still couldn't find the words to express his sad suicidal friend related thoughts.

Tony picked up on this and spoke for his not as cool friend, "What's wrong Clay?"

"Nothing, it's just a bit... weird going back after all this time."

"Hmph, shouldn't be too weird. All the big players are still the same. Justin likes balls, Jessica is rude, Alex is totally straight, Courtney decapitated a freshman, and Bryce still smiles like a douche."

The boy known as Clay knew those names well. Some were acquaintances who'd spit on him in passing through the halls of school. Others like Courtney and Bryce were big name people on school grounds and off of school grounds. "Still the same huh? Guess no one gives a shit about Hannah then..."

Tony sat silently, brimming with snake based secrets he wished he could tell his buddy but knew it'd be unwise to at the moment. He sighed, "I know her death is still messing you up pretty hard, but you gotta stay strong and move on alright?"

"Stay strong? Right..." Clay halfheartedly replied.

In a mutual silence of leather and mourning, the two boys pulled up to the gigantic castle keep fortress that was their school ground of highschool education. The student council president, or king rather, Marcus had converted the entire school into his own personal castle fortress some time ago. Many did indeed find it a bit strange, and maybe even a little unnecessary; a real waste of school funding if you will. But lots of Bryce's jocktroopers enjoyed throwing freshmen down the needlessly long staircases, and Jessica was rather resigned to the whole matter, so no one could stop Marcus even if they had wanted. Some might find it odd such power lied with children, but it made sense in the school of Clay. Marcus was the king, and Principal Bolan was his right hand. Bryce had control over all jocks within the school, and Jessica had her own sizable military group. Since all of them were friends they had become the rulers of the school.

Putting aside the history lesson in his mind, Clay exited the vehicle alongside Tony, who was looking around like a concerned mother hen.

"Hey Clay, it's your first day back so take it easy. But if anything weird happens you come tell me, alright?"

Clay didn't get what he had been trying to say without saying, but do to Tony's authoritative air of leather and muscle, Clay could only nod.

"Ok, I'll see you at lunch," Tony said with departing words.

Now no longer in the presence of his greasy friend, the teenage boy who's name was Clay set his legs into motion toward the front door of his castle schoolhouse. He couldn't help but feel like some sort of preschooler preschooling for the first time and that Tony was his hip mother. _"I need to stop thinking dumb shit like that..."_ Clay thought. With this new resolve he straightened himself out and tried to walk with confidence toward his day of learning. However, unbeknown to Clay, there was an individual watching his strut of confidence.

The boy with suave hair and a pristine letterman jacket leaned against a nearby tree. The boy eyed with stares at the lad known as Clay who had just walked inside the schoolage building. "So, you've finally come back Clay. The boss said you might be dangerous, but all I see is the same pussy that left."

Meanwhile, Tony had been sauntering down the halls like he usually did in the morning. Many girls swooned, greeted, and whispered secret affections to the boy. But as usual, Tony ignored all of them, especially today since he had other things on his brainwaves. _"I sensed a change within Clay, but it doesn't seem to have awakened. I want to tell him the truth and let him in on the plan soon but...I should ask Snake about it."_ With that thought in mind Tony walked into his first class, grease economics, and gave his complimentary right hook to the teacher who nodded back with pride and bloody teeth.

Clay sat in his mathematical science class with little interest for what the teacher had to say. With much memory and angst, the sad boy looked longingly out the window, wondering about the many what ifs of life. What if he had been there for Hannah, what if he had told her how he really felt about her, what if he made the tough confession that picking up girls via reduced butter upon popcorn at the theater was an incredibly stupid idea that didn't even work once? All nothing but hypotheticals and game theories within the mind of Clay. _"At least she can rest in peace now...She had her troubles, but I know everyone really loved and appreciated her as much as I did..."_ the boy thought.

"Isn't that Clay Jensen?" a boy whispered to a nearby pal.

"Hmm? Oh yeah," the lad replied with a look of disinterest for the Clay boy.

"Wasn't he friends with Hannah Baker?" the first boyo continued.

"Who?"

"You know, that weird bitch. The one who dated Justin."

"Oh.....no still not ringing a bell," lad number two replied with a dismissive shake of his noggin.

"Jesus fucking Christ Jerry! She's the bitch who played a wrist violin in her bathtub!"

"Oh! Nope still can't put a face to the name."

In silence, Clay had to continue to sit there and listen to his classmates disrespect his deceased friend. He could ignore it well enough at first, but after numerous attempts from boy 1 to get boy 2 to understand who he was speaking of, they eventually drew in a few other students into the conversation as well. And soon enough there was like six students all trying to explain and remind the boy (whose name was apparently Jerry) who this Hannah Baker girl was. They brought out many diagrams and photo albums to try and get Jerry to understand, but much like a young man wanting a decent education at a reasonable price, he wasn't getting it. In the end Clay just had to put up with their Hannah Baker lecture until lunch arrived, at which time he promptly headed for the medieval dining hall.

Entering into the large chamber for dining and eatery revealed many jocks and knights had already taken seats at the long oak tables Marcus had installed. Clay could spot said king himself sitting at his private long table alongside his advisers and faithful royal knights, who were currently disemboweling a band club member who had gotten too close to the king. Spotting his leather jacket wearing brother from another mother, Clay hastily avoided the rowdy rough boys of the dining room and took a seat across from his loyal pal. The two boys dined on the legs of lambs and drank soda pop from goblets. Tony's choice was Coke, while Clay's was Pepsi; much to the dismay of Tony.

"Clay, you're never gonna get laid if you keep drinking that stuff," Tony assured his virgin pal.

"What? Shut up man and drink your stupid Coke."

Tony gave subdued chuckle, baffled by Clay's statement, "Stupid? Now I know I misheard you. Why do you think Coke is so popular Clay? Because it's fucking delicious! I painted my car red in the name of Coke for Christ's sake!"

"You know Tony I'm gonna be honest, Coke isn't even that good," Clay sighed.

Tony didn't even dignify such a blasphemous comment with a response, he just looked back at the boy across from him with an aghast expression.

"I'm serious Tony, it's not as good as you think it is. Quite honestly it's pretty bland in comparison to other sodas."

Tony laughed in bewilderment, "Clay that's like saying George Washington sucks because he's bland in comparison to other presidents! I swear there's a special place in Hell for Pepsi drinkers like you," Tony dismissively said with a long obnoxious sip of his goblet imprisoned Coca-Cola. Posing with brand loyalty.

"Look I wasn't trying to-" Clay's words of soda brands trailed off when he looked past Tony's gorgeous face. Tony took note of Clay's looking and decided to turn back with a look himself. They both spotted a disgruntled looking Justin staring at them from another table with eyes in his looks. "Is he staring at us?"

"Looks that way," Tony said with a tip of his sunglasses and glare of his eyeballs to the jock of Justin.

Noticing them noticing, Justin decided to stand up from his table and walk away with mysterious menacing. However he kinda botched it when he tripped slightly on a stray milk carton someone had left behind. Clay had always been for the school's policy of enforcing strict no-littering rules, but now that stray trash had tripped up Justin, he was totally ok with the odd bit of stray litter every now and then.

"What was that all about?" Clay wondered aloud.

"Nothing you need to fret over man, just drink your dumb Pepsi so we can head for our next class," Tony said like mother hen.

With the Pepsi drank and the food tossed on the floor just like the olden days, the boys got up to exit the hall of dining. Clay walked like a white boy while Tony walked with his hands pocketed and coolness in his heels (that's heels as in his feet. Tony did not suddenly decide to put on a pair of women's shoes, however he wasn't entirely against the idea). Before the two knew it though a crowd of girls had all come to marvel and spout pleasantries at the greasy Tony. This wasn't the first time Clay had seen such a display nor was it the first time Clay had seen Tony respond to the attention with a dismissive sigh and shake of his head.

"I'm heading off to my Cars 2 history class, I'll meet you after school," Tony explained to Clay with a parting gesture. "Stay safe, alright?"

"Uh, sure?" Clay responded with further confusion as he watched his greaser buddy walk away, still pursued by the many schoolgirls. _"Tony sure is popular. I wonder why he never accepts any of those girl's advances? Could he be....no surely not," _Clay thought with Tony in mind. In fact he was so busy with these thoughts of thots that he once again failed to realize he was under the watchful gaze of a fellow student.

"So you're going to take care of him?" Jessica asked with little interest to the menacing Justin.

"Might as well. Tony is going to make his move against us soon, and he's going to have Clay help. Don't see what's wrong about getting rid of the little dork now," Justin evilly chuckled.

Jessica sighed without care, "Have it your way. Just don't go deviating from the boss's orders too much, otherwise you'll wind up in trouble."

Justin straightened out his letterman jacket and looked back at the girl with a smirk. "Since when do you care about what the boss wants?"

"I don't. But the last thing I want is him pissed. It'd be bad news for all of us." Jessica narrowed her eyes at the fiery eyed jock. "You're not invincible, remember that."

"Pfft, sure," Justin said as he pressed on to track Clay.

Clay's math class was just as bad as his earlier ones. At first it all seemed normal: he ignored the teacher and thought about the corpse known as Hannah, students slept, some played mobilized games on their mobilized phones, others carved things into the desks which were clearly hilarious and would remain funny for all time and would in no way lose their charm for other students in the coming generations who'd sit in the exact same spot. But things took a turn for the worse when someone brought up his homie Hannah yet again. In fact it was the same guy from before who had been trying to explain who Hannah was to his buddy Jerry.

"Yeah dude, Jerry didn't remember the suicidal girl."

"Who?" his new friend asked.

"You know, Hannah Baker."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"Are you serious!? Ugh, I'll go get the marker."

Shoving aside the teacher, the boy accompanied by a few other children stood at the whiteboard and used the colorful markers provided to draw a picture of the Baker deemed Hannah. The friend sitting in the seat still didn't seem to recognize the marker face, and thus the team of students whipped up a timeline and some diagrams for further clarification. Still just a shake of the head from the seated boy. The last thing they did, and what caused Clay so much distraught, was drawing a crude image of Hannah intensely using a razor blade on herself in the bathtub; they also made it look like she was jamming out hard in some sort of violin solo, which Clay thought was in poor taste.

"Oh! Hannah! Right I remember her!" the lad finally said. "What a weird lady."

Clay had had enough. With the teacher still spasming on the floor, and the students discussing if one _could_ actually melt an ice cube in their throat before they'd choke, Clay made a slick exit. "Assholes..." he muttered, turning his back on his generic unnamed classmates that never ceased to badmouth a dead girl.

Suddenly a voice voiced up from behind, "What's the matter Clay, couldn't take the heat?....Wait, fuck! That would've been better if you came out of culinary class!"

The Clayboy spun around at the sound of the off topic pun with surprise. Standing confidently in all his jocky glory was Justin, who seemed to be exuding some sort of bright orange aura. "J-Justin!?"

"That's the name nerd. Glad to see you didn't forget it during all that time you spent crying at home," Justin taunted with a grin. "I was planning to burn you to a crisp after your last class, but I guess we can speed things along!" Justin raised his right index finger, and as if manifesting from the strange aura around him; a flaming basketball appeared, spinning on said index finger. In mere seconds two more manifested and were spinning behind him.

"What the..." Clay uttered in awe.

Justin raised an eyebrow. "Wait, can you see my balls?"

"Yes! I mean...yes!" Clay answered with balls.

"You are just full of surprises Clay, but it doesn't change a thing! You're dead either way!" Justin cried, pointing forward to direct all three rubbery balls of fire at the boy in front of him.

Clay was too shocked by the balls and the weirdness to move. He could only watch in fear as the bright balls raced toward him, the smell of burning rubber tickling his nostrils like how high impact spheres would soon be tickling his broken teeth. With clenching eyes, Clay expected pain, but instead felt the radiating coolness of ice. Opening up his peepers revealed the balls had been stopped in their tracks by a thick single spike of ice that had emerged from the floor.

Justin was shocked with anger. "What!?"

It was then Clay felt a firm hand grab his shoulder. "Sorry about that Clay. Shoulda got here sooner."

"Tony!" Clay cried with joy. "How'd you know I was in trouble?"

Tony smirked with a head tilt to Justin. "Justin here seems to forget we're both in the same Cars 2 history class. Since he wasn't there I figured he was probably up to no good."

Justin was finally able to refocus on the opponents that stood a few feet in front of him. "Tsk, so you're a stand user too huh?" Justin spat toward the coolly posing Tony.

Tony chuckled, "Yep. And it looks like you and a few others around here are too."

"Knew you'd start trying to fuck up shit around here," Justin angrily grumbled.

Still cool and calm as a cucumber, Tony turned to Clay and asked, "And you can see all this Clay?"

"Y-yeah..."

Another chuckle from the Tonester, "Knew you had the potential. Your stand probably awakened after Hannah's death."

"Stand? Tony what's going on!?"

Tony put a finger to Clay's lips and shoved an ice cube in his mouth. "Relax, just stay behind me and get ready to book it." With a casual stroll and his hands within his leather jacket pockets, Tony approached the jock. "I'd give up now if I were you Justin. You can't beat my stand, **THE FONZ**!" Tony cried. A black and light blue aura surrounded him, and from that aura came what looked like a ghostly version of the famous television character Fonzie.

"Ha! You got lucky earlier loser!" Justin snapped, spawning six flaming basket balls from his aura. "Your stand can't stop my **GREAT BALLS OF FIRE**!"

"What's with all the dramatic posing and naming your weird magic shit?" Clay asked like a child who didn't know what taxes were.

"I'll explain later," Tony assured. "Now then," Tony posed with a confident point forward, "cool him off Fonzie!" In sync with his words, the Fonz phantom sent a trail of ice spikes speeding towards the flaming jock, who had to dodge swiftly out of the way.

"That all you got?" Justin asked without expecting an answer, quickly retaliating by sending his balls of flame forward with a snap of his fingers. In response, The Fonz generated brass knuckles of ice (so in this case I suppose the technical term would be ice knuckles) and proceeded to punch the speeding basketballs of doom with precision and speed. Despite being able to destroy five of the balls with ease, the sixth one made it past The Fonz's icy fists and made impact with his shoulder. To the ever furthing shock of Clay, once the rubber ball had exploded against the phantom Fonzie, Tony had suddenly recoiled in pain and was knocked back. Justin laughed, "And I'm just getting warmed up!" The jock generated a whole new batch of eight balls, that's two more than last time for those of you keeping score at home.

Grabbing his shoulder, Tony shouted back to Clay, "Head for my car!"

The boy was going to question the greaser, but the question was answered when he noticed that four of those flaming balls were pointed at him. With no second thoughts Clay did a heel-turn and sprinted down the halls to head for the parking lot, the four flaming balls exploding behind him. Tony meanwhile had once more managed to punch the three oncoming balls, but the last managed to scrape against his left kneecap. Tony however was a cool biker boy and managed to shrug off the knee related pain.

"My stand is a simple one, but it's reliable!" Justin exclaimed as he summoned yet another fresh batch of burning rubbery passion, otherwise known as flaming basketballs. With a snap of his fingers and a twirl, Justin sent his balls flying down the hall with a spin. The only reason said balls didn't burn and pummel the boys was because Tony was able to have The Fonz create a dense buffer of ice spikes to seal off the hallway. Soon enough the greaser had caught up to his friend thanks to his natural bad boy running speed.

Clay huffed with running, "Tony! What's going on!?"

Looking back at a pursuing Justin generating more balls, Tony shouted, "I'll explain when we get to Mother Base! Just keep running!" With cool slickness The Fonz once more created more picket fences of ice to slow the basketball boy.

In the escape that ensued, the halls of the castle-esque schoolhouse were awash with flames and ice. And while Tony did his best to ensure he slowed Justin's pursuit without harming any innocent bystanders, Justin would casually and carelessly hit everyone and everything around him with his balls. Even though he was being hotly pursuited, Clay couldn't help but think about how Justin's constant targeting of random students in the halls was a waste of time and energy. The jock was surely the type of person to purchase a Grand Theft Auto game just to kill the pedestrians, and that just wasn't kosher with Mr. Clay Jensen, no sir. Do to the lack of power though, Clay could only continue to run like a rabbit being pursued by a thirteen year old whose father finally let him use a big boy gun.

Bursting through the school's mighty fortress doors, the two lads did a mad dash through the field of parked cars, horses, and car horses. Tony's mighty shrine to Coke in the form of an automobile was in clear view. Clay was already jumping in to fasten his safety belt and don his bicycle helmet, but Tony stood greasily a few feet away, looking at the Justin standing opposite the field of parked transportation methods.

"End of the line nerds!" Justin shouted with jock. Twenty mighty balls of flaming rubber formed around him, spinning with NBA player. "I-"

"I'm gonna roast you fucking losers alive? That's what you were going to say next, right?" Tony remarked with a tip of his shades.

"What!?" Justin shocked with correct guess.

"Then you were going to send a few balls my way to distract me while using the majority to blow up my car. Right?" Tony predicated yet again.

"I...no?" the basketball boy sheepishly replied.

"Hmph. I've had The Fonz with me since I was a child, and I've had to deal with all sorts of assholes over the years. But you? You've only had your stand for a short while. Which is why," Tony's words stopped there for dramatics, causing both the Clayboy and the jock to notice the spreading ice along the ground, "you lose." On cue a field of large ice spikes erupted from the asphalt of the parking lot, sending many cars and horses flying into the air, which then came tumbling down toward the ball wielding stand user. While Justin was busy launching a multitude of balls into the air in order to blow away the objects about to bring him pain, Tony coolly slid into the driver seat of his car and proceeded to put the pedal to the metal. Tony's shoulders finally slid down like butter on toast, and he breathed a breath of relief once they were on the road.

"What, in the actual fuck, just happened?" Clay questioned.

"Everything will get fully explained once we reach Mother Base," Tony said as he began sipping on a can of Coke Zero. "But man, I'm jazzed to know that you're a stand user too!"

"What does that even mean?" Clay questioned, part two.

"Snake could probably explain it better than I can."

"Who's that?" Clay questioned, part three.

"Snake? He's an elite soldier and stand user. He helped clear up the truth behind Hannah's death."

"The truth behind Hannah's death!?" Clay exclaimed.

Tony's chill driving expression faltered for a split second, "Right...you still don't know."

"Know what?! Jesus, how can so much crazy shit happen in one day?!"

"Clay, relax dude," Tony reassured the squirming passenger.

But the boy did not relax. "How are you so calm? Justin's an asshole, but he literally just tried to murder us with flaming basketballs!"

"And?"

"And what!? This isn't normal!"

Tony sighed, "Clay, the world's a whole lot more crazy than you think it is. But it's ok, even I was a little freaked when I discovered all these things."

"Listen man I don't think-"

"Clay, just trust me. Relax," Tony finished with a reassuring stare, not paying attention to the road, resulting in multiple road based felonies.

The Clayboy finally returned his breathing to the level at which one could call normal. "Fine. Sorry Tony."

"Nothing to be sorry about Clay. I'd expect no less from a Pepsi drinking pussy like you," Tony jabbed.

Clay did manage a chuckle, but he quickly found himself looking out at the passing scenery. So many thoughts raced through the boy's head: what stands are, Tony's past, who exactly is this Snake guy, and of course the truth behind Hannah's death. All those questions and maybe a few others would be answered within mere seconds since the boys pulled up to "Mother Base" whilst Clay was thinking about all of those questions. Parking with illegality, Tony set his vehicle into the motion of stop and hopped out of his seat. Clay followed behind the greaser into what seemed to be a rather generic looking two story suburban household.

"Snake, I'm back! And I brought Clay with me," Tony announced as he kicked in the front door with his knee.

The two boys entered the fashionable yet modern kitchen, and there in the shadows emerged a gruff looking man with a bandana wrapped around his skull. He took a puff from a cigarette using his mighty jaw and spoke in a voice of gravel, "Tony, it's been awhile since you've stopped by."

"Kept you waiting, huh?"

Snake smirked. "That's my line." The snake looked with snaky eyes at the boy beside Tony. "I see you've brought Clay. Has he learned the truth?"

"Not entirely, but he's definitely a stand user. That's why I brought him, so you could fill him in," the Tonester explained with facts both known and unknown.

Flicking his cigarette at Tony's sunglasses Snake approached and sized Clay up. "Alright, well let's see your stand kid."

"Uh..."

"Well?" Snake welled.

"He hasn't summoned it before," Tony explained with baby stand user.

"Ah I see," Snake nodded with an understanding for the current predicament. Snake then immediately decked Clay in the face with a precise snake like punch to the mouth.

"GAH! What the fuck!?" Clay cried like baby on the floor, reeling in pain. "Why'd you do that?!"

"A stand can manifest itself in a moment of danger," Snake said with a cracking of his manly knuckles, "so I'm going to CQC you until it appears."

"Dude I just met you and I just learned about all this shit less than an hour ago! Are you serious!?"

A swift kick to Clay's chin shut the boy up and sent him crawling for his life. Try as he might, Clay couldn't get his stand to appear, he was just too focused on running from the bearded man trying to punch his lights out. Which happened after 2 minutes and 27 seconds of running. Leaving behind an unconscious Clay in the living room, Snake slithered on back into the kitchen to disappointedly sigh at Tony (who was already raiding the fridge for a certain beverage in a red can).

"The kid is a real diamond in the rough, I'll say that much," Snake stated, lighting up his 43rd cigarette for the day.

"His stand didn't manifest?" the Tony asked from behind his can of Coke.

"Nope."

Tony gave a smile that said it all, but he talked anyway, "Don't worry. He may not look like much, but I'm telling you he can...well he..." Tony faltered. "Ok look, with a little work I know he can be a great asset to us. And keep in mind, for him, this is personal. Even more so than it is for me."

Snake didn't say anything. He merely looked back at Tony and grunted while smoking his tobacco.

Suddenly the two gentlemen in the kitchen heard a gentleman entering through the front door. "Snake! I'm back-...Why is there an unconscious child in the living room?"

"Go help Otacon with the groceries," Snake ordered the Tony.

"What about Clay?"

".....Yeah pick him up too while you're at it."

Meanwhile back at the school. A concerned Jessica casually performed a hostile take over of her calculus class in order to leave class early so she could investigate the ruckus from earlier. Strolling down stairs in her sweet mercenary outfit, Jessica would stop curious students who had seen what had happened, question them, and then proceed to snap their necks. Getting an idea for what had happened, Jessica marched out of the school gates and into the lot of parking. And there was the boy she expected to be spotting. Justin, who was sitting slightly bruised amongst piles of destroyed cars and burning horse corpses.

"What happened to the whole killing Clay thing?" Jessica asked with pure curiosity and confusion.

"That fucking greasy leather fetishist got in my way!" Justin grumbled like a boy who lost a baseball game.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm talking about Tony!"

"Oh, gotcha. He's a stand user I take it?"

"Yeah, and so is that fucking dweeb," Justin jocked.

"Really? Clay?"

"I know right?"

Jessica shrugged her shoulders and sighed, "Well nothing for it. I'll go tell the boss we've got a problem."

Before the girl could depart, Justin stood and grabbed the girl's arm in order to cease motion in her movements. "You head back to class, I'll handle it."

"You sure?" Jessica asked the bruised boy.

"Yeah, it'll be fine," Justin reassured, pressing Jessica's nose so hard it folded inward.

Batting away the jock's annoying hand the mercenary sighed once again, "Alright. Guess I'll hear how we're handling this situation later."

"Yeah, catch you later Jess," Justin said with a parting wave. The jock's eyes drifted toward the castle school, knowing that the boss was likely in his office. With gulping, Justin marched with forced confidence into the building and toward the guidance counselors office. Average students who passed by him couldn't tell why the weirdo wearing a burnt letterman jacket was walking like a scolded house parrot, but his subordinates and the subordinates of his fellow stand users could tell where he was heading. Standing before the door to the one and only Mr. Porter's room, Justin knocked before entering.

"Hey...Mr. Porter," Justin nervously greeted as he stepped into the room dimly lit by candlelight.

Mr. Porter spun around in his swivel chair like a big head honcho in order to face the one entering into his office space. Snapping close his shoe magazine, Porter opened his mouth and let out his deep voice, "Justin. Is there a reason you're here?"

"Yeah...about that... So remember how we brought up how Tony and Clay might be stand users in the last meeting?"

Porter didn't answer, he only leaned forward on his desk with crossed hands of villainy; waiting for the nervous ball boy to continue.

"Well it turns out we were right, they're both stand users. And so I went to go kill em-"

"Ah, I see. So you disobeyed my orders?" Porter asked, his gaze only growing more cold.

"Well no...I mean... I was just taking the initiative-"

"So you killed them?" Porter impatiently asked.

"N-no-"

Porter shook his head before leaning back in his chair, disappointment radiating from his entire face. "So you disobeyed me, you alerted two enemies to our presence, and then you let them escape? Am I understanding the situation?"

Justin swallowed and clenched his fists. "Look, I know you said to keep to ourselves, but I was getting worried Tony was going to do something! Then he brought Clay back to school today and it made me think it'd be better to just take them out now."

Suddenly Porter was out of his seat and standing half-an-inch away from the boy. "You know Justin, I wouldn't mind removing you from this group of ours," Porter explained, placing a large meaty hand on the boy's shoulder. Justin appeared to be keeping his cool, but Porter could tell from the little details that the big balled basketball boy was frightened. "However, I know Bryce would be very disappointed to see you go. Maybe even Jessica would too."

And just when the Justin thought he'd get his just desserts, Porter stepped back and took a seat upon his seat.

"Well, you started this mess, so I expect you to finish it. Kill Clay and Tony," Porter order, kicking his feet up and resuming to read the pages of the magazine that talked about why so many dentists find shoes attractive.

"Sure thing boss!" Justin replied, immediately exiting the room with a sigh of relief. _"It's fine, everything's fine. I'll kill Tony, then Clay, and then things will get back on track. For the sake of our future, I'll kill those losers!"_

Amidst the darkness of sleep, the youth dubbed Clay Jensen wandered in his blank dream. Considering the boy was often plagued by hilarious yet terrifying bicycle bathtub based nightmares, he was actually perfectly okay with having a boring nothing dream. At least it seemed like a boring nothing dream, that thought was quickly changed once he saw a certain female figure in the distance of his dreamscape. Walking at a reasonable pace, Clay confronted the figure, and upon seeing who it was couldn't hold back his words of surprise.

"Hannah!?"

The young lady turned around and smiled at her old friend. "Yo what's gucci my boy it's me!"

"I can see that! But...no wait this is a dream!" Clay shouted to what he thought was nothing more than his deluded dreams.

"Am I gonna have to make a bitch gargle Skittles out of a bike helmet again!?" Hannah shouted in anger at the disbelieving Clay.

"Oh my god! Hannah, it is you!"

"You know it ho!" Hannah enthused. "Now do me a favor, when you wake up stop being a bitch."

"Huh?"

"Shit's about to get real fucky, so you gotta stay strong and deal with it aight?"

"I mean, yeah, I guess I can try for you Hannah!"

"Aight, aight, don't get gay on me. Let's just do our best to fix this town!"

"Yeah! Wait we?"

"Sleep time is over white boy, I'll catch ya later!" Hannah informed as she faded away from the scape of dreaming.

Awakening hours later to the sensation of having Pepto-Bismol forcefully shoved down his throat via spoon, Clay's eyes shot open. Without even needing to look he could feel that he was all tucked into bed, however his eyes did reveal that the man caring for him at bedside was a brown haired nerd wearing glasses and a lab coat.

"Oh! Y-you're finally awake!" the nerd cheered.

"W-what...?"

Suddenly another familiar voice from the right interjected, "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

"Tony?!"

"Tony, please stop that," the nerd chastised.

The greaser shrugged with smug, "I was just having some fun! Anyway, glad to see you're up. Otacon kept an eye on you while you slept."

Groggily, Clay sat up in the bed he was layed upon, looking around to get his bearings. He was no longer in the living room of the home, but rather a generic looking boys bedroom. The only thing that especially stood out about the space was the numerous amounts of firearms and ammunition boxes strewn about; then again considering they lived in America perhaps that wasn't too odd.

The nerd sitting in the rocking chair on his left suddenly reached out a hand to introduce himself, "My name is Otacon, I help out Snake. Him and I are old friends I guess you could say."

"Oh, well it's nice to meet you," Clay politely shook the hand outstretched.

To the surprise of all three a dresser drawer slid open, and much like a jack-in-the-box, the man calling himself Snake popped up tall and proud, smoking more nicotine. "Hmph, finally awake I see. Kept me waiting." The soldier folded forward and slid over to the group like a garden hose.

Clay rubbed his temples. "Can someone please fucking explain what's going on?"

Placing his cigarette atop Otacon's head to make him look like a chimney, Snake faced the boy in bed. "I will Clay. But first thing's first, I feel I should inform you of the truth of your friend's death."

"Hannah!?"

"The girl who never pays for pizza when the group is getting pizza but then she steals like two slices?" Snake asked for confirmation.

"Yeah, that's her!"

"Then yes, Hannah. You see the truth is Clay your friend didn't commit suicide. She was murdered," Snake informed with foreboding gravel.

_To Be Continued_ \--->


	2. Stand Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay learns of Stands and CQC, which he must use to confront Justin

Clay was taken aback by the words revealed from the serpent's mouth. "Hannah was murdered!? Why!?"

Snake puffed on his tobacco stick as he reminisced, "You see, Hannah was actually apart of mine and Otacon's crusade to eradicate every Metal Gear from this world. She was investigating a rumored Metal Gear being produced somewhere here in this town when we lost contact with her. We don't know the ringleader, but we know some of your classmates were involved.

Otacon tipped his glasses with facts. "From Hannah's reports this Metal Gear is supposed to be a gigantic multi weapon death machine. Its basic weaponry can destroy an entire city within hours, and lord knows what damage it could do to the country if it was loaded with nukes..."

"Hence why this shadowy group was willing to kill Hannah in order to keep her quiet," Snake continued. "Little did they know Hannah had already shared her findings with us via cassette tapes. She mentioned a cool guy by the name of Tony who could be trusted, so we teamed up."

"Yep," Tony affirmed. "Now I'm doing what I can to make sure Hannah can rest in peace."

Clay had to take it all in. Hannah was in fact not a simple hometown girl with annoying habits who said dumb things. She was a secret agent woman with annoying habits who said dumb things! And furthermore, she had the dream in her heart to stop their classmates from engaging in the activation of a giant monster machine with world shattering capabilities. All this time he treated her like the angsty romantic interest in some sort of TV drama, but in reality she was living a dangerous life for the sake of others. That or she was in it for the pizza money, either way it was for a good cause!

"So she was killed...by someone we know?" Clay asked.

"Yeah, someone from school did it," Tony answered with sad truths.

Thoughts of identities flashed in Clay's mind as if he were a detective working through the big case. _"Who!? Who did it!? Justin? He's got the balls for it, but he and Hannah dated. Jessica? For the right price she'd do it. Alex? Marcus? Courtney? Zach? Ryan? Bryce?" _Think as he might, Clay just couldn't figure out what named character could have done the dirty deed dirt cheap.

"Snake..." Clay quietly began, "I know I'm not as strong as you, smart as Otacon, or cool as Tony. But please, let me help you! Everyone who's responsible for Hannah's death...I'll make them pay!"

"Did you just assume I'm smart because I wear glasses?" Otacon questioned with previous sentence.

"You'll take some work," Snake said, but not without a fatherly glint in his eye. "But I know I can turn you into a fine soldier."

"I'll help out with the training if you need me to," Tony rang in coolly.

Clay hopped out of bed full of vim and vigor. "I don't care what it takes! Teach me what I need to know in order to help you guys!"

"Very well, then let's get to work," Snake said with a faint grin.

* * *

Meanwhile, Justin pondered in the burning afternoon sunlight out on the football field. Bryce and his boys were having one of their usual freshman jockey races (a game in which freshmen are horses for senior jockeys, the freshmen are in fact not the jockeys in this scenario). Justin wasn't taking part in such games though, he was amongst his personal basketball crew of jocktroopers attempting to formulate a way to take down the two dweebs causing him grief. The head basketball jock factored his stand, troops, and info on Clay into a devious plot.

With a snap of his flaming fingers, Justin shot up to his feet. "Alright boys, I just got an idea!"

"What is it boss?" a ball player asked his boss, who he had secret feelings for.

"Follow me, we're going to pay Mr. Jensen a visit," Justin deviously devised with a scheme.

Running like an old timey villain with his basketball crew in tow, the gang of ball boys all assembled at the school's local bike rack and hopped onto their two wheeled transportation machines. Of course Justin donned a backwards ballcap and did a speeding wheelie on his because he was the coolest amongst his team.

* * *

Now awake and filled with the determination to bring about the deaths of his fellow youths, Clay sat in Mother Base's kitchen to get a lecture from the boys. Like many televised programs had taught him, knowledge was power. So while Otacon cooked the team some vinegar flavored curry, Tony and Snake were prepared to answer the Clay's questioning questions.

"So this is Mother Base?" Clay asked with house.

"Yes," Snake answered simply.

"Your secret base of operations is a family household?" Clay asked once more to confirm.

"Personally, I wanted an oilrig," Snake admitted, "but Otacon said we didn't have the money to afford that. Oil or home, it won't matter once we fill this place with some able troops."

"I see... Well anyway, here's the bigger question, what are Stands?" Clay asked with ghostly figures.

"Stands are personifications of life energy, or physical representations of one's fighting spirit. Therefore, almost all Stands are unique, and are not made equal," Snake explained with cigarette smoke.

"If my Stand had been weaker than Justin's, we might not have been able to escape," Tony chimed in.

Snake nodded, "Right, it's important to learn an enemy Stand's abilities quickly or else you could suffer the consequences. Keep in mind that any damage your Stand sustains, you'll suffer the same damage."

Taking that painful knowledge to heart Clay then questioned, "So if Stands have always been a thing how come I've never seen them until now?"

"Because only Stand users can see other Stands. Tony has been a Stand user since he was a child so he's always known of them. You on the other hand only became a Stand user a short while ago, which is why you're only seeing them now," Snake explained with baby Tony.

"And what caused me to become a Stand user?" Clay questioned with deep curiosity.

"We don't know," Tony shrugged. "It happened after Hannah died though, so maybe the trauma from that somehow awakened it within you?"

Snake hmm'd with deepness, "Possibly."

"Ok, so, bottom line is I have some sort of funky ghost within me that can beat up people and or other people's ghosts?" Clay asked for confirmation of his new power.

From the stove, Otacon called back cheerily, "That's right! It's just like one of my Japanese animes!"

"Shut it Otacon, Clay doesn't want to hear about your nerd shit!" Tony chastised.

Turning away from the clash of the grease and the nerd, Clay asked Snake, "Do you have a Stand?"

Swallowing the rest of his lit cigarette the stealthy soldier man answered with demonstration. Striking a humble yet fearsome pose, Snake exuded a dark green aura, and from it came a large black mamba wearing a tiny bandana similar to Snake's. "This is my Stand, **Snake Eater**."

"What does it do?"

"Heh, you'll see," Snake chuckled with sly snaky words.

With a thought, Clay turned his attention to the man making curry for dinner. "Does Otacon have a Stand?"

The nerd answered for himself, "I don't...But I don't mind! I'm more used to staying at base and providing support anyway." The man's pale skin and genuine smile told the boy he meant what he said.

With one final question of Stands, the boy known as Clay Jensen asked, "Justin can use a Stand, so does that mean this entire Metal Gear building group can use Stands?"

"Most likely," Snake answered with distant eyes. "Hannah wasn't a Stand user herself so she couldn't tell us if they were."

"I see..." Clay see'd.

With slamming plates, Otacon slammed dinner onto the table. "Dinner is served fellas!"

"Thanks Otacon," Snake humbly thanked his cohort.

Tony didn't thank because he was just too cool; instead he ate greedily and chugged on Coke. But Otacon knew deep down in Tony's leather-bound heart that the boy had gratitude, and thus, didn't mind the lack of a verbal acknowledgement.

"Well, now that this whole Stand thing has been cleared up, what comes next?" Clay asked with a mouth full of home cooked meal.

Snake bopped Clay on the mouth to signal him to not speak when said mouth is chomping on food like a cow in the field. However he did answer, "Training of course. We don't have much time; we'll begin at dawn. In fact, you should get some sleep right now so you're ready for tomorrow."

"But I'm not tired," Clay pointed out.

Point as he might, Snake slickly punched Clay in the throat. The boy gagged, spat, and squirmed as he fell face first into his food; already taking the train to dream town.

After using Clay's unconscious head as a coaster for his pineapple flavored Coke, the Tonester threw his own question Snake's way, "Other than the training Clay thing, what is the plan moving forward?"

"You said some basketball player was trying to kill you?" Snake asked with a rub of his chin.

"Yeah, Justin."

"Alright, he dies first. Or we redeem him. It'll be one or the other," Snake answered, enjoying a newspaper and fresh cigarette.

“And after that?”

Snake ate his food with plans in mind, “If nothing comes up we’ll have to do a little investigating. But as the old saying goes; the basketball doesn’t stray far from the unused basketball court in the neighborhood playground. I think this Justin will lead us back to his coconspirators. And besides, Stand users often attract other Stand users."

Tony sipped loudly on his famous beverage with agreement, “Sounds good.”

* * *

But while the newfound team of Metal Gear busting stand users were having a hearty dinner crafted by a fan of Japan; a certain ball boy was rolling rolling rolling to the local cannabis fields. The basketball team rolled up on their mighty bicycles into the fields of mary jane, scanning the open area for the man they sought. What they saw was mostly orphans wallowing in the dirt, and foreign guards wallowing in cheap beer. Except one who approached the letterman jacket wearers.

“Hey! Who the hell are you kids?! Go on and get out of here before you get hurt!” the man from Denmark shouted.

Justin raised his hands with minor peace. “Easy dude, we’re just here to see your boss. He’s expecting me.”

“Really?” the guard asked, questioningly.

With a sudden nervous voice, one of Justin’s boys raised his weapon and quickly shouted, “Fuck! They’re onto us!” The basketball boy then immediately proceeded to pack a full clip of lead into the man’s head. The orphans watched in shock and curiosity as the guard fell back; splattering his grey matter all over the plants and children.

Now in a panic, all of Justin’s men drew their firearms to engage in a firefight with the underpaid and drunken guardians of weed.

Deciding to end things quick, Justin snapped his fingers with a shout, “Great Balls of Fire!!!” And with his shout he was able to quickly summon six mighty flaming balls. Since the guards of varying nationality could not see Justin’s stand, each one had their noggins caved in and set ablaze by the speeding balls of fire.

Within less than a moment, Justin’s basketball team had conquered the plantation guards. The orphans dressed like orphans rose form the dirt; their hands covered in old soup, and their eyes full of balls. The strongest of the orphans stepped forth to Justin and spoke, “Thank you for freeing my brothers and sisters stranger.”

“Uh, no problem. Didn’t really come here with that plan in mind,” Justin honestly admitted.

The young boy’s fellow slaves joined him by his side, now armed with the dead’s weaponry. “Nonetheless, thank you. We shall live our lives freely now like bouncing balls. We will never be slaves!”

“Right on little dude,” Justin said with a fist-bump to the child.

With a steadfast nod, the young orphan leader and his fellow slave children ran off into the night in search of greener pastures.

“Uh, we’re just gonna let em go boss?” one ball boy inquired.

Justin watched the children run off with the freedom of children who had escaped their heroine addicted parents. He fought the smile growing on his lips but he still said, “Yeah, let em go. They’re a couple of NBA players in the making.”

“If you say so…” the ball boy replied without much understanding.

As if arriving fashionably late to a party, Mr. Jensen stumbled out of a white tent holding a plate of suspicious cookies. “Howdy ho boys, the cookies are done! Did you whip the orphans yet?”

The looks of surprise were mutual between the ball team and the father of Clay, who quickly assessed the situation and set aside his cookies. With eyebrows, Justin ordered his boys to hogtie the Jensen and drag him along with their bikes. And the rowdy boys did just that, soon speeding off into the night to continue their plot.

* * *

On the flip side of things, morning had arrived to Mother Base and Clay found himself not awaking in bed or in a plate of food. Instead he felt himself awake to the sensation of cold water kissing his face like a swarm of gnats. With opened eyes he quickly realized he was lying in a bathtub with the showerhead activated. Snake was crouched on the toilet watching in interest.

“Finally awake?”

“Gah! Yeah, and cold and wet thanks to you!” Clay shouted in annoyance as he floundered out of the tub.

Snake extinguished his current ciggy using the shower water. “Well Clay, life is all about being cold and wet.”

“Uh huh….”

“Anyway, it’s time to start your training,” Snake announced as he hopped off the toilet so he could stand manly and tall.

“Ok, what are we doing firs-“

Snake didn’t waste time for Clay’s words, and swiftly punched him in the face. He continued as the boy reeled back in pain, “Training session one: use CQC in order to escape this bathroom. Preferably before you dry off.”

“What? I have to beat you in order to leave? Shouldn’t we start off with the basics or something?” Clay questioned, quickly receiving another punch to the mouth as an answer. “Fuck!” the boy cried with bloody mouth.

“That would be the case if you were an average bear Clay. However, I see a potential within in you. You’ve got the makings of a natural CQC user, I can feel it,” Snake gruffed with a chest poke to the bleeding boy. Snake resumed his battle stance while spitting words of advice, “Just imagine holding down the action button, and you should be able to counter my attacks.”

“Wha-what does that even mean!?” Clay questioned with button.

“No words only fists,” Snake firmly commanded, engaging in another attack.

Ridiculous as it sounded, Clay had already been punched multiple times in the last 24 hours, so he didn’t see what else he had to lose in taking the man’s advice. Imagining the controller to a Sony product, Clay envisioned himself holding the action button. He kept that thought in mind as Snake got closer, and then as if by pure mechanics or instinct, Clay was able to move Snake’s hands out of the danger zone while delivering his own quick strike.

The new baby CQC user stepped back in surprise. “Holy crap, I can’t believe that worked!”

Snake smirked with knowledge. “Of course it did. Keep in mind I’m going easy on you though, and your natural CQC instincts will only get you so far. But with more training and battle experience, you’ll be a master in no time.”

“So I can leave now right?”

Snake lit up a fresh roll of nicotine. “I didn’t hear no bell.” Cigarette in mouth and fists raised, Snake got back to work training Clay in the art of CQC mechanics.

After hours upon hours of bathroom related training sessions, the young lad of Clay finally managed to drag his battered body out of the bathroom. Curling up in the hallway, he weakly sobbed tears of joy and freedom. Snake flicked one of his dying cigarettes at the kid on the floor as he nonchalantly leaned against the doorframe.

“Not bad. Could’ve been better, but you’re pretty good.”

“P-pretty…good?” Clay groaned.

Tony strolled down the hall with can of Coke in hand, looking down at Clay with a grin. “Aw hell yeah, he escaped the bathroom! Good job Clay!” Tony congratulated.

“Do…you know…CQC…Tony?” Clay asked through his throbbing pains.

Tony chuckled, “Nah, I like boxing.” And with a sip of his Coke serving as a farewell, he kept walking on by.

Snake shook his head at the boy who could no longer see his head shaking do to the fact he was in the process of walking away and therefore had his back turned. “Boxing he says, pfft.” Snake then looked down on the Clay, who was busy staining the carpet with his blood. “When you’re done laying there drag yourself to Otacon and he’ll patch you up.”

“Thanks…” Clay thanked.

And thus the journey downstairs began. Clay’s thoughts drifted to mighty men who mounted Mt. Everest, or salty seamen who sailed the seas. He considering himself amongst them now as he painstakingly dragged his bruised and broken body inch by inch along the carpet; step by step down the mighty steps of the household. The dragging journey to the living room went smoothly for the most part, except for the part where a cockroach about the size of a glue bottle scurried across Clay’s hand (which absolutely repulsed him).

Now in the room of living, Clay stared up at the Otacon reading one of his Japanese mango books on the couch. “Oh! Hi Clay!” Otacon greeted with a wave.

“Otacon…please…help me.”

“Huh? Oh! Right, you and Snake had your first training session! He went a little rough on you huh?” Otacon commented with a sheepish grin.

“For the love of god make the pain stop….” Clay groaned.

Tony leaned in from the kitchen with comments of his own, “Sheesh Clay, you must be out of shape man. I know Snake can be a little intense but it shouldn’t be that bad.” Tony sighed with slick leather, “Guess you’ll get tougher with more training though.”

Otacon rolled off the couch with tiny boxes in hand. “Now Clay, would you prefer the SpongeBob band aids or the Flintstones ones?”

Clay felt slightly insulted by such stupidity. “SpongeBob of course!”

The nerd perked up like a helpful nurse in the old people death home. “You got it!”

The nerd’s medical knowledge and steady bandage hands got Clay patched up lickity-split, and afterwards, the boy even got some mint ice cream. While sitting in the kitchen alongside Tony, Clay posed a question.

“Tony, shouldn’t we be at school right now?”

“….Oh shit. I was so caught up in your training; I didn’t realize we were late!” Tony realized, getting out of his seat to grab his hotrod keys.

As the two lads got ready for school at quicker than average speeds, Snake slithered on up to Clay with words, “You boys be on guard. If you two get into trouble, call me.”

Using his thumb, Clay affirmed what the Snake had instructed. But no more words could be said for the time as Clay ran to keep up with the Tony bolting out the door to hop into his vehicle.

Now inside the starting car of Coke, Clay asked, “How late are we?!”

Tony pulled out a pocket watch his aunt bought him to see the timing of the world. “It’s lunch.”

“Aw man! They were serving peasant soup in the lunch room today!” Clay remembered, disappointed he’d miss out on a toothsome meal.

Driving at high speeds, Tony asked with an eyebrow, “You like that shit?”

“Look I know what people say, but it isn’t that bad,” Clay defended.

Tony shook his head as he hit a passing vagrant on the road. “First Pepsi and now this? I sometimes wonder how we became friends.”

“It’s because I let you watch Happy Days on my TV, you know, because your mom has a heart attack whenever she sees Fonzie for some reason,” Clay pointed out.

“Oh yeah,” Tony reminisced with a smile.

Arriving in a timely late manner, the boys pulled into the parking lot that was still littered with debris and the corpses of horses. The duo marched with a quickness in their steps over and around such obstacles in order to reach the destination of the school’s front gate. But to Clay’s dismay, and Tony’s lack of surprises, some of Marcus’s knights were already on standby to smite truant delinquents.

“Halt!” one growled with drawn steel. “Are you two late for school!?”

Clay was silent with fear of the man in heavy armor, but Tony was cool as vanilla flavored ice. “Yeah, and? We’re here now aren’t we?” Tony sighed.

“By the decree of King Marcus, all students who are late past lunch shall be beheaded! Kneel and face judgment!”

Tony sighed in a more annoyed tone, “See Clay, this is why we have Stands. Fonzie!” Summoning the manifestation of his greaser soul, The Fonz coolly punched the ground with chilled knuckles, and sent a mighty patch of ice spikes along the ground toward the knight boys. Once in range, the small patch of spikes ended in an eruption of large ones which pierced the knights like nails piercing tuna cans.

“Wow…The Fonz is pretty tough huh?” Clay admired.

“Eh, not really. All I can do is create pointy ice. Be it small or big, all my ice has to be pointy,” Tony explained with Stand ability.

Pushing open the large wooden doors and sweeping aside the corpses, Clay continued to talk as they walked, “What do you think my Stand ability will be?”

Tony shrugged with a smile for the future. “Who knows? Knowing you though, it’ll be just fine. Or it’ll be Pepsi related.”

Pepsi and talk ceased however the moment they laid eyes on the group emerging before them out of one of the school's numerous halls.

“Justin,” Clay let out, gazing at the smirking ball boy.

“And it looks like he brought his buddies,” Tony said with contempt for the basketball team.

Brushing aside his jocktroopers, Justin the captain of balls, stepped forth with evil. “Glad to see you two losers decided to come back! Was worried we’d have to go looking for you.”

The Fonz was already cool and ready behind Tony’s muscly shoulder. “If you think you’re going to start some shit now, I’d recommend you don’t. You’re well within The Fonz’s range,” Tony threatened.

Justin chuckled with malicious plots, “Go ahead and kill me, but if you do, then you’ll never know where Clay’s father is!”

“My dad!?” Clay gasped.

“That’s right dweebs; we’ve got Mr. Jensen as our hostage!”

Tony grimaced and recalled The Fonz. “What do you want?”

“What do you think!? I want both of you dead!” Justin shouted.

“And you want to just…get on our knees and let you kill us?” Tony questioned.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I see I see. Well I’m sure we can- Clay fucking run!!!” Tony shouted with Stand summoning. Justin barley had any time to curse and summon his own Stand before Tony created an ice barrier to block the oncoming balls and bullets. “Make a break for the gym and call Snake! I’ll lag behind a little and slow em down!”

Already with running legs, Clay pulled out his phone and asked, “Why the gym!? Won’t basketball players be stronger in such a place!?”

“Maybe, but that’s gotta be where they’re keeping your pops! Now move!” Tony yelled with running and ice.

At Mother Base, Snake was getting in his daily pushups while Otacon stood on his back and filed taxes. Snake effortlessly continued the pushing up with one arm as he answered his cellular phone. “Clay. Having a good day at school?”

“No! Justin’s got my dad hostage and he’s trying to kill us!” Clay informed with a yell.

“Ah, I see. You boys need help?”

“Yes!!!”

Snake sighed, using his other hand to light up a cigarette, now pushing up using only his toe muscles. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

With ice, fire, and the occasional bullets behind them, the boys continued to sprint for their school’s gymnasium (which remained untouched by Marcus since Bryce considered it a holy ground not to be renovated).

With minor huffing Tony asked, “Is he coming?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll be here soon!”

“Well that’s good, but we’ve gotta try and save your old man before Justin roasts him or us alive!” Tony informed with plan.

Do to the boy’s head start in tandem with Tony’s constant ice buffers; they were able to reach the gym first. They wasted no time kicking in the metallic doors and rushing in with search for the older Jensen. It didn’t take long to spot the middle aged man hanging hogtied from one of the gym’s dozens of basketball hoops.

Despite being kidnapped, Mr. Jensen’s tune was chipper as ever, “Howdy son!”

“Dad! Are you okay?!”

“Yep, just hanging around,” the man chuckled.

Tony furrowed his brow and glanced to Clay. “Clay I’m gonna be real, I almost want to leave him up there just for saying that.”

“Don’t blame him, he’s probably high as a fucking kite right now,” Clay said with looks at his father.

With both sets of eyes focus on the high hanging father, neither Clay nor Tony noticed when Justin kicked in the gym door himself. Justin’s basketball team fanned out, while he walked in like the walk of the cock, clearly feeling superior on his home turf.

“Alright losers, I’m not the sharpest stick in the sharp stick shed, but even I know when to quit,” Justin laughed, shaking his head at the stupidity of his adversaries. “You’re out numbered, and if my guys don’t kill you, I will.”

Tony and Clay were back to back looking at all the armed ball players. Counting Justin they were going up against 13 of them (a number which made Clay feel odd, but he brushed it off as feeling hungry from not getting that peasant soup he wanted). Unable to do much, Clay struck a CQC pose while Tony readied The Fonz.

“Clay,” Tony whispered, “it’s a slim chance, but we can make it out of this if we can stall them until Snake gets here.”

“Right, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Ok, so get to stalling.”

“What?! Why me?” Clay shout whispered.

“Because you’re still being trained, you need to learn how to act cool under pressure while also striking poses.”

Clay was disgruntled that training was still occurring even in such a life or death situation, but it was a life or death situation so he went along with it to try and survive. “Uh…hey Justin. I…like your hair?”

Justin was flabbergasted by the surprise compliment. “Excuse me?”

“Just saying…you know…your hair looks nice.”

The basketball captain raised an eyebrow. “A-are you coming onto me Jensen?!”

“What!? No!”

Unexpectedly one of Justin’s boys piped up, “Would it be wrong if he was boss?”

“Yeah, what’d be so bad about that?” another commented.

“Uh, the fact that I’m straight? I like balls, but I don’t swing that way!” Justin clarified.

A basketball boy on the far end tugged his collar and looked away in disappointment. “Heh yeah, why would Justin ever date another dude. Any guy who’d want that would be….shit outa luck…”

The jocktrooper next to him hesitantly reached out a hand. “Mack? You ok?”

“I’m fine!” the so called Mack said with withheld tears.

“Enough!” Justin yelled. “No more of this stupid shit, you dorks die now! Everyone, open fire!”

The second all the ball boys raised their guns, Clay thought it was over. Thankfully though, there must have been a god up in the sky who greatly enjoyed reptiles, because their snaky savior gallantly jumped through the gym window. To the surprise of all, the man landed with effortless grace and stuck a mighty pose. Even though the ballboys couldn’t see it, Clay and Tony could; Snake’s mighty Stand, Snake Eater.

“Snake!” both boys cheered simultaneously.

“Kept you waiting huh?” Snake smirked.

“Who’s this guy!?” a jocktrooper questioned loudly.

“Where’d he come from?” questioned another.

“Why is he smoking three cigarettes at once?” questioned the last.

Justin looked on with equal surprise, but as the leader, brushed that aside to lead. “Doesn’t matter who he is, fire!”

With undying ball brotherhood, all the basketball players fired their firearms at Snake.

But the gruff soldier didn’t freak out; in fact, he closed his eyes and removed his cigarettes with a smile. “Bullets are useless against Snake Eater.”

Those words rang true, as every single bullet that flew toward Snake was instantly eaten by Snake Eater. Clay’s jaw nearly dropped witnessing how fast the snake themed Stand moved around Snake, protecting him from each bullet looking to put a hole in his flesh.

Tony had the makings of a fine leather wearing soldier, as he didn’t even need to hear a command form Snake in order to move in with advantage.

“The Fonz!” Tony shouted with a pose. The trail of ice he sent forth managed to take down the right row of still surprised jocktroopers. The spikes of ice impaled or outright killed the six ball boys.

“No!” Justin shouted out with genuine despair at the deaths of his teammates. However, it’d seem there was also a cool hip basketball playing god in the sky as well, for some of Bryce’s off duty jocktroopers who were beating up some nerds outside the gym rushed in the investigate the hubbub. The door they entered through was one opposite the one all of the current boys had entered through, so the Mother Base fellas were surrounded.

“Justin!” a football boy cried, “you alright man!?”

Justin looked away from his fallen comrades and summoned his Stand. “Yeah, just help me kill these dorks!”

“You got it bro!” the footballer shouted back with comrade.

The basketball captain then turned to his remaining six ball boys with a dour expression, aiming his six flaming basketballs at them. “Sorry about this guys, I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t hurt.”

Mack the ball player smiled with loyalty (and other feelings). “It’s ok boss, we understand!”

The six flaming basketballs of Great Balls of Fire hit the six basketball players dead on and sent them flying backwards.

Snake wasn’t sure what that whole thing was about, but using his superior military knowledge he was able to assess the situation.

“Tony, we need to work together to deal with that group of gun-toting football players. Clay, go deal with that Justin kid.”

“Me!?”

“Yes, you. What’d you think the CQC training was for? Go kick his ass,” Snake commanded.

Before the Clay could argue or whine, Snake and Tony were already rushing toward Justin’s reinforcements with their Stands summoned. Hesitantly turning back caused him to see something that made him slightly hesitant to rush forward like his friends. Justin now had 18 rotating flaming basketballs around him.

“What!?”

Justin laughed, “You still don’t get how my Stand works!? Heh, my Great Balls of Fire works like a good old basketball game! For each person one of my balls hits, I can summon two more. The base number is six,” Justin informed with a point to his fallen ballboys, “and with six clean hits, I now have 18!” At the moment he said those numbers, eight balls hovered forward primed and ready. “But I only need eight to roast your sorry ass!”

The burning rubber spun quickly and then flew forward as if each was thrown by the big NBA players of the 90’s themselves. This was it, Clay thought, his pal and mentor were busy dealing with other matters, and all he had was CQC to defend himself against Justin’s rubbery balls of death. He was all alone, and in few seconds, he’d be a dead burning corpse.

But as he clenched his eyes to accept the inevitable; a voice whispered within him. _“Clay…”_

“Hannah?” he said quietly.

_“I thought I told you yesterday to stop being a bitch!”_

With the ghostly shout from Hannah within, Clay reopened his eyes to see the balls mere inches away from him. And almost as it were pure instinct….

“What in the absolute fuck!?” Justin couldn’t help but shout as he couldn’t believe what his eyes were beholding.

Each ball meant to destroy Clay had been punched away in quick succession by ghostly pure white hands. Amidst the clearing smoke stood Clay himself, only now something completely unexpected stood behind him. Justin looked at it in horror as the boy stood up and struck a pose.

“W-wha-what the fuck is this bullshit Clay!?” Justin shouted, pointing at the newly awakened Stand.

Coming from Clay’s shining white aura was a ghostly figure that looked like the deceased Hannah Baker. But Justin noticed right away how this Hannah looked quite different: her long wavy hair stood up, she appeared to be wearing some sorta goofy blue and white outfit, and she was far more muscular than she had ever been.

“This….This is my Stand!” Clay proudly proclaimed, striking an even more fearsome pose. “**HANNAH BAKER!**”

“Y-you even named it after her!? What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Justin continued to freak out at the weirdness coming from Clay.

“Hannah…was a lot of things. But, at the end of the day I know she was a good person, and she was my friend! For her revenge and mine, I will beat the shit out of you and everyone involved with the creation of the new Metal Gear!”

Justin unconsciously stepped back, scowling at the dweeb. “Shut it with your dumb shit! You’re still dead!” Justin yelled with a desperate point to guide his remaining balls toward Clay.

“Hannah!” Clay yelled, sending his new Stand in front of himself. The ghostly buff woman’s arms punched the oncoming balls with the speed of speeding trains, obliterating each in their tracks.

The Justin was absolutely speechless. “I-Impossible! No one can just deflect Great Balls of Fire!”

The basketball captain then broke out into a nervous sweat when Clay did a manly cartwheel over to him and pointed with a cold stare. “I just discovered my power, so forgive me if I wind up not holding back.”

“Wha-“ was all Justin could get out before one of Hannah’s thick fists smashed into his face.

“Ora!” Clay shouted with a connected punch. Clay wasn’t quite sure himself why he shouted that, but it felt right so he went with it as he carried on. “Ora ora ora ora ora!!! Orraaah!!!” Clay continued to cry as his Stand Hannah Baker continued to pummel Justin. Once the pummeling had finished, Justin’s limp body was sent flying backwards into the gym wall.

Tony approached from behind in amazement. “Clay…that was fucking crazy dude!”

Clay dropped his pose and turned to look at Tony. “Oh! Was it?”

“Yeah dude! I can’t believe you have such a powerful Stand…..and that it looks like Hannah?” Overlooking such facts Tony continued, “Anyway, Snake and I took care of most of those jocktroopers, but a few retreated, so we should get going before more reinforcements show up.”

“What’s Snake doing right now?” Clay asked with a nod to the man piling up bodies across the room.

“Apparently he’s gonna use some things called fulton packs to get us some new soldiers at Mother Base.”

“I guess that makes sense?” Clay agreed like child who didn’t know about politics. “What should we do about Justin?”

Tony looked at the broken basketball boy with disinterest. “If he’s not dead I’m sure one of his buddies will take him to the hospital. Our work is done here, let’s grab your dad and get out of here.”

“Right.”

While Snake was busy tying balloon backpacks to the unconscious football boys, Clay used Hannah Baker to punch the ball hoop off the back board, causing his father to fall to the ground. Afterwards the four gents all piled into Tony’s car in order to escape the school ground; not bothering to untie Clay’s father. On the speeding trip back to the safety of Mother Base, the boys tossed Clay’s father out of the moving vehicle in front of Clay’s home.

“Tell mom I’ll call her later!” Clay called back to his father lying on the pavement.

Considering how fast Tony drove and how slick he was behind the wheel it took not time at all for the trio to make it back to the suburban palace of Mother Base. But instead of only one lonely nerd occupying the space though, there was a small group of young men wearing military fatigues and black masks that only revealed their eyeballs full of soldier.

“Welcome back boss!” one saluted Snake.

“Who the hell are these people?” Clay asked the super soldier.

“Some new recruits I picked up using the fulton packs. Most jocktroopers actually have weak loyalty to their ball teams. With my training though, they’ll be far more loyal to us and Mother Base.”

“I see…” Clay saw with loyalty tactics.

Tony could be heard cracking open a cold one with the boys (that is to say the cold one was a can of Coke). Taking a sip he enthused, “Enough nerd shit, we just had our first victory against the Metal Gear group, and Clay unlocked his Stand! We should celebrate!”

Snake sighed, “Fair enough I suppose.” In celebrations, Snake decided to light up a cherry flavored cigarette.

Despite all the tragedy and weirdness that had transpired in the past weeks, this night was the first in a while where Clay actually felt pretty happy. Surrounded by his best pal, celebratory mentors, and a group of football players who now killed people instead of passing the pigskin. Yes, amongst these people, sipping on Pepsi and practicing CQC, things were looking up. But he knew this was only the beginning, there were still many members of the mysterious Metal Gear building group who had to be dealt with.

* * *

Bryce entered the gym alongside his wary football boys and walked over to the broken form of Justin. “Oh shit! Justin, you okay bro!?”

“He’s still breathing,” a feminine voice said from the shadows. It was none other than the merc Jessica.

Bryce rubbed his empty noggin in confusion. “How’d this happen?”

“Clay, most likely, he’s a Stand user like us.”

“Shit. Well what should we do?”

“I need you to take Justin to the hospital while I go talk to the boss,” Jessica informed, sadly glancing at the critical condition Justin.

“You wanna tell him about this?” Bryce asked uncertainly.

“Yes, you just make sure Justin gets treatment.”

The football team members all spoke up for their homeboy.

“We’ll help him!”

“Yeah, those quacks at the hospital will fix him, or else!”

Bryce lifted Justin off the floor bridal style and said, “Don’t worry about him; we’ll make sure he makes it through this. Good luck with Mr. Porter.”

With the ball of foot team departing from the gym, Jessica marched straight for Porter’s room with fire in her heart. “Don’t worry Justin, by the time you wake up, those bastards will be six feet under.”

_To Be Continued --->_


	3. Running the Gambit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys try to have a swell day of learning, but are hunted by another Stand user.

The days when Clay could peacefully sleep away the hours of the morn before school were now long gone since he was living at Mother Base. Instead of curling up like a sleeping kitten or getting washed in a sink, Clay now spent the morning practicing CQC with Snake, training his Stand with Tony, and discussing the merits of Japanimation with Otacon. Breakfast was at least somewhat normal, the difference being that the jocktroopers were now cooking the four lads some delicious pancakes. Except Snake, he declined and opted for a bowl of nails.

“It’s so nice to have someone else do the cooking for once,” Otacon admitted with a smile for free labor.

While munching of the cakes of pan in his mouth, Clay asked, “Are we gonna be okay going back to school? I mean, we put Justin in the hospital.”

After watching Clay receive a bop on the mouth from Snake for once again speaking with his mouth full, Tony answered, “We should be okay…for the most part. No doubt the ringleader will send someone else after us, but Bryce, Courtney, and Marcus are busy with their own shit and probably still don’t see us as a threat. Meaning, we’ll be safe from them raining down their forces on us for now.”

Otacon tipped his glasses with ideas. “If we don’t find any other leads we should question that Justin boy once he wakes up in the hospital.”

To the unexpectations of Clay a jocktrooper holding an old corded house phone (which no one has anymore) leaned into the kitchen, calling out, “Clay, some bitch claiming to be your mom is on the phone!”

Clay spat out his fork and rushed out of his seat. “Oh shit! I forgot to call her last night because of the celebration!” Taking the phone from the trooper, Clay greeted quietly, “Hello…?”

“Clay you stupid sink fucker!” the mother of Clay insulted over the phone. “Where the hell are you?! And why was your dad tied up on our front lawn?!”

“I’m hanging out with friends mom, and I saved dad from some rowdy basketball hooligans,” Clay explained with mostly truths.

“Whatever. You’re still going to school right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Alright, stay in school.”

Clay had pause. “Wait, that’s it? You don’t care to know any more than that?”

“Yeah. As long as you’re still getting an education and you’re not bothering me with your problems, then I don’t give a shit where you are,” explained the busy mother.

The boy wasn’t sure how to feel about his family situation, but he was more focused on the avenging Hannah situation, so he said, “Ok mom, I’ll come back home…..at some point?”

“Okay,” was all the mother of Clay had to say before hanging up.

“Golly Clay,” Otacon said from the dining table, “your mom sure is swell for letting you help us murder an entire group of dangerous killers!”

“Yeah….” Clay replied while tossing away the now useless home phone. Now sitting back at the table with his mates, Clay asked the Tonester, “Hey Tony, do your parents know what you’re up to?”

“Of course!” Tony coolly lied. “But no time for that lame discussion, we gotta book it to school!”

“Well I guess you’re right,” agreed Clay “wouldn’t want to be late like yesterday.”

“Exactly! Quickly, to the car!” Tony pointed with a shout as he hopped out of the window like a 90’s kid.

The head jocktrooper approached the still sitting Clay, holding a brown paper bag. “Here you go boss!”

“What’s this?” Clay questioned with bag.

“It’s your lunch sir! Made with lov- I mean…pure obligations of duty.”

“Oh, well thank you,” Clay thanked, getting up to catch up with Tony.

Deciding to store the morning’s conversation in his memory banks for later purposes, Clay sat sittingly in the passenger seat of Tony’s hotrod with more topics to discuss.

“So what’s the plan when we get to school?”

“Try to lay low while we figure out who the ringleader is,” Tony informed, “if we take them out everything should be fine after that.”

“I mean…I guess that makes sense?” Clay sensed. It was true that in many movies and gaming media that when the hip youngsters beat up the big bad boy, everything ends up fine. Despite the fact that in reality most organizations have countermeasures and lines of succession set up in place of such events. But Clay was willing to overlook such things and hope that Tony’s idea of punching the hidden evildoer in the face would indeed solve all the problems in the town such as litter and lack of parking space.

Parking in his reserved parking space, Tony and Clay exited the vehicle with shutting doors and grabbed their bags of school supplies. Neither knew that they were already being hunted as they walked onto school property. From one of the higher floors; a girl full of bullets and vengeance watched the two through her scope.

“Tony and Clay. Porter has given me the pleasure of killing you two, and I’ll do it without either of you even getting to lay eyes on me. Thanks to the power of my Stand,” the girl finished ominously to no one.

Through the power of having different classes, the boys parted ways to go to said classes. Clay certainly didn’t know what to expect now that his life had become bizarre thanks to super soldiers and Stands. He certainly wasn’t expecting a pack of Marcus’s hall monitor knights to burst into the room.

The mathematician English teacher was understandably shocked to see them. “What are you doing here!? I paid my taxes this month!”

The head hall monitor knight, clad in his shining orange and silver armor, shoved aside the teaching man with words, “We’re not here for you plebian! We’re here to confiscate these youth’s cellular devices!”

The teacher on the floor (who also greatly enjoyed using his phone in order to fake that he actually knew the subject he taught) fought in words of protest, “B-but you can’t! My class is one of the ones cleared not to be renovated into a medieval style! We’re allowed to have phones in here!”

Kicking the man in the face with his metallic shoe, the knight barked, “Times change!” Signaling to his crew, one of the other knights stepped forth with a burlap sack. “Place your phone devices into the sack; you can retrieve them when the day ends. Failure to comply is in direct defiance of his grace, and will be met with swift execution!”

As the sack carrying knight made his rounds around the room, Clay considered if he should use Hannah Baker to beat down the pack of hall knights. But the thought faded quickly when he realized how much power Marcus actually held. Even if he did somehow manage to beat all of these knights by himself, word would travel back to Marcus and then the entire school would be after Tony and himself. So, reluctantly, when it was his turn Clay dropped his SpongeBob themed phone into the dirty old sack.

Looking over its content with a nod, the head knight spoke as his crew marched out the door, “The king thanks you for your compliance citizens. Enjoy your day of learning and remember glory to King Marcus!”

Many of the boys and girls of the classroom voiced complaints and frustrations at the sudden rule change to their once thought sanctuary of a classroom, while others helped the cowering teacher on the floor. Clay sat with thoughts as he began to ponder if there was something more to the knights sudden appearance. He kept thinking even later on when he left to meet up with Tony during lunch consumption time.

“Having your phone taken sucks man, my class had a surprise visit from Marcus’s goons too,” Tony commented, sipping from his goblet of Coke.

“Really? This is weird. You don’t seem too concerned about it though?” Clay pointed out.

Tony shrugged like an uncaring racecar driver. “I’m not too attached to my phone like some people around here. We’ll just have to get em back at the end of the day. I just hope they don’t look at all the things I bought on Amazon…” Tony finished with a mutter.

“I hope they don’t look at my photo gallery,” Clay uttered with embarrassing Christmas photos.

Tony carried on, “You’re right though, something definitely seems fishy. I mean, Marcus has always been a shitty king, remember the stairway massacre?”

Clay shuddered, “Yes, if it wasn’t for you I’d have been impaled with pencils.”

“Right, but anyway, shitty as he may be, this is pretty random even for him. So I was thinking, maybe someone asked him to do that.”

“Why?”

Tony tipped down his sick sunglasses and scanned the room cautiously. “Can’t say for certain, but I’d stay on your toes if I were you.”

“You think someone from the Metal Gear group is already hunting us again?” Clay questioned with looks of his own.

“Wouldn’t be shocked,” responded the Tonester.

Despite the underlying caution and fear that another Stand user was after them, Clay and Tony were still able to down their beverages with bro and bravado. And as usual crowds of ladies came to flock around Tony as the two of them took alternate halls to head off to their respective next classes.

Clay had moved on from the strangeness of his phone being abducted by the medieval students from earlier, and managed to go through the motions of the rest of his classes. That was until his final class had arrived. The French Spanish teacher was carrying on with his lecture as normal, but then heard a hard knock upon the door.

“Excuse me class,” he said as he exited to investigate who was there. Clay heard the sounds of a scuffle, begging for mercy, and then what sounded like a beheading.

Afterwards a senior knight student wearing a tie over his armor entered the room. “Greetings students, your previous teacher was just moved to a farm upstate. I’ll be filling in until you get a new teacher.”

A curious student raised his hand with a question, “Aren’t you a student though? Is this allowed?”

“Questioning a teacher is not welcome in a class environment! Gentlemen!” the tie wearing knight yelled out into the hall.

Three steel clad students marched into the room and preformed a quick and ruthless execution of the student sitting at his desk. They then proceeded to high five via their swords in celebration of a clean kill before exiting once more.

“Clay Jensen!” the new “teacher” had exclaimed with a point to the boy sitting by the window. “Detention after class!”

“What? Why, what’d I do?” Clay asked with that weird confused face he gets when he’s confused.

The knight slightly unsheathed his sword. “Are you questioning my authority Mr. Jensen?”

“No…I guess not,” Clay reluctantly said, wishing he could take him out with Hannah Baker and save the village (by which he means his classroom).

Yet again Clay had to relent to the power of King Marcus, as a direct confrontation could prove troubling for Clay and the rest of the Mother Base boys. So even when the final bell rang and all the school boys and school girls exited the castle-like school, Clay remained seated for a time.

At long last the teacher pulled a horse out of the storage closet in the back of the room and galloped away with words, “You’re free to go peasant!”

Now free from class, Clay exited into the halls now colored with the colors of afternoon time, which made sense considering it was in fact afternoon in the empty halls of school.

“Clay,” a familiar voice said.

The boy turned with voice to see leather and hair. “Oh Tony. You waited for me?”

“You know it man, why wouldn’t I?” Tony smiled with friendship. “Anyway, let’s get- Clay! Get down!”

Thanks to Tony’s shoving, Clay was able to hit the deck before, what seemed to be a bullet, could hit him. Despite looking like a bullet, the object wasn’t as fast as a bullet but still moved with the speed of an office worker rushing to the next meeting. It also left behind a dark purple trail of mysterious light.

“What the?” Clay muttered.

“It’s an enemy Stand!” Tony said with worry.

The two lads stood up slowly as they watched the bullet trail to the end of the hall where it surprisingly bounced off the wall it impacted, coming back the way it came at a slightly more left angle.

“It bounced off the wall?” Clay questioned with physics.

Tony kept a hand outstretched to keep his pal back. “Let’s follow the trail it left, and keep away from it until we know for sure what its capabilities are.”

Following the mysterious purple trail of Stand light led them to a corner of rounding in the hall. Before they could round said corner, two more bullets leaving behind purple trails rounded the corner first. Each bounced off the walls in a zigzagging fashion causing the boys to duck down in a panic. Standing up again in a worry, each boy brushed against the light trails left behind by the bullets, upon which, it seemed each bullet changed its trajectory in order to bounce back in the opposite direction.

“Shit,” Tony uttered in bullet. “The Fonz!” Tony Fonzied, creating a nice little ice blockade made of ice to stop the bullets. However, instead of bouncing away like anticipated, the three Stand bullets burst against the ice shattering it. The small explosion from the objects of trajectory caused the two to fall onto the ground in pain and ice. “Alright…so we definitely shouldn’t get hit by these things what so ever…”

“Why’d it explode against your ice but not the wall?” Clay asked as he dragged himself back onto his feet.

Tony similarly got back up with an answer, “If I had to guess, I’d say those bullets blow up only if they hit a person or a Stand.”

“You think so?”

Tony shrugged with leather jacket. “Makes sense to me. Anyway, the trails they left disappeared after they blew up, but lets keep going this way and try to find the Stand user.”

Clay nodded with comrade. “Right behind you.”

With Stand power in each of their hearts, Clay and Tony ran like one of Otacon’s Japanese animes down the empty halls of the school. Just as they were about to round a corner, yet another bullet came whizzing down the hall, which the lead Tony dodged with ease.

“Too easy,” he greased, noticing the purple trail it left behind led to a biology classroom. “Let’s ice this loser!”

With confidence and leather, Tony threw open the door whilst stepping forward, only to pause as he heard a faint click. Despite his baby standing in the group, Clay heard it as well and was able to use Hannah Baker’s swift speed to grab Tony and yank him back into the hall. The second Tony left the doorway, the room had erupted in a fiery C4 based explosion.

“Shit!” Tony exclaimed, soon breathing a sigh of relief, “Thanks for the save Clay.”

“Considering how many times you’ve helped me, this was nothing,” Clay remarked with Stand while helping Tony to his feet.

Many distances away Jessica chuckled to herself as she heard the C4 she planted had been triggered. “I wonder if that got one of them? Knowing their luck, probably not. Hmph, well either way, with the tactics my father taught me they’ll never catch me. And I get to take them out at a distance, thanks to my Stand **Sniper’s Gambit**.” Almost as if to emphasize her words she summoned her wacky yet slick jet black sniper rifle Stand, firing off another couple of rounds randomly down the halls.

Back to the boys.

“Why don’t we call Snake?” Clay suggested with parental figure.

“Oh, do you have your phone?”

“Well no-“

“Then I guess we’re not calling him. Besides, Snake’s Stand only eats normal bullets. I don’t think it’d do much against this Stand,” Tony explained.

Conversations of bullets were interrupted by three of those said bullets bouncing down the hallway toward the boys. On the same wavelength (for the most part anyway, Tony was more concerned about his leather jacket getting scuffed rather than his life getting scuffed) each boy handily avoided the cruising projectiles and got back to following the trail. In the rush though, Clay brushed against one of the purple light trails left by one of the bullets. But it was Tony who noticed that at the same moment, the bullets seemed to bounce in a way so that they’d head back toward Clay.

“Clay, don’t touch the light trails,” Tony ordered like mother goose.

“Why?” Clay questioned like the ugly duckling.

With a look back to the projectile Stand heading toward them, Tony informed, “Those things bounce around randomly looking for their target, but touching their trail gives them a general idea of where to go.”

“You think so?”

Tony combed his hair with style. “I’ve been a Stand user for years Clay, trust me, I know these things.”

The baby boy Stand user took the advice to mind and followed his lead in slickly dodging both trails and bullets alike. Troubles arouse however when they came to a crossroads in the hall, each both holding a faint trail of purple.

“She’s trying to split us up,” Tony stated.

“So what do we do? Stick together anyway?”

“No, she might get away again if we both go down the wrong path. You take the left, I’ll take the right,” Tony ordered, already taking the right which he clearly knew was the right path.

Clay followed his path to destiny (the left hallway), and sped like a slower than average bullet down the hall. Upon seeing five fresh bullets, Clay had to do some quick thinking to avoid the bouncy death bounding his way. Perhaps Tony’s slickness had rubbed off on him because Clay was able to outsmart the bullets with ease. “Hannah Baker!” Clay cried for his Stand, summoning the muscly ghost woman in order to tear off a nearby medieval row of lockers to use as a makeshift shield. Pressing forward with Hannah in front holding up the metal barrier, Clay could hear the bullets deflecting and bouncing elsewhere. “It worked! As long as those things don’t touch me or my Stand, I’ll be safe.”

Clay moved forward with the power of his powerful Stand, soon heading up the steps to one of the many castle towers Marcus installed in the school for no discernible reason. Nearing the door and noticing a lack of fresh Stand bullets, Clay had Hannah toss aside the lockers, and punch down the wooden door at the top of the tower’s stairs. The baby Stand user entered into what seemed to be quite the cozy little sniper’s nest, with many a open window to observe the surrounding school and its windows.

Dropping from the ceiling like a cat that jumped on the ceiling, Jessica landed gracefully behind the investigating Clay and summoned Sniper’s Gambit. “So you made it all the way here,” Jessica said with little interest rather than surprise.

“Jessica!” Clay exclaimed, readying Hannah Baker with arms. He wanted to pummel the girl immediately, but found questions crawling out of his throat instead, “Jessica… why are you doing this?”

“Excuse me?”

“You and Justin were…well to be frank, a couple of assholes, but this is a whole other level. Murder and Metal Gear building, why?” Clay questioned the enemy.

Jessica sneered at the boy’s ignorance, “You don’t know anything, do you Clay?”

“I know you and the others killed Hannah!” Clay shot back with deep seeded anger.

“She was my friend! But she-“ Jessica cut herself off, focusing on what was really important, like coffee and bullets. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll kill you for what you did to Justin.”

Clay snapped like a child with sass. “As if! Tony probably realized he went down the wrong path and is on his way here right now!”

“You sure about that?” Jessica asked rhetorically. The follow up to her sly words was a not too distant explosion rumbling the lower halls. “Sounds like he just set off the claymores I planted.”

“W-what? Tony…no…” Clay whispered in leathery disbelief.

Jessica locked and loaded her reliable gun based Stand and pointed it at Clay. “No use blocking these shots Clay, whether they hit you or your Stand, you’ll be dead either way.”

“Damn it! Did I screw up?!” Clay said aloud in disgruntlement at his not so very good protagonist powers.

Suddenly a voice of greasy familiarity piped up from behind the sniper girl, “No, you didn’t Clay.” The Tonester entered through the door, striking a pose, “In fact, we’ve got her right where we want her.”

“Tony?!” Jessica surprised with a restrained shout.

Tony posed again with a smug grin. “Heh, your next line will be, ‘You should be dead from the claymores I planted!’”

“You should be dead from the claymores I planted!” Jessica said before gasping in shock at his correct guess.

Tony chuckled, “It was a good trick, but simple enough to deal with. I knew you’d be keeping an ear out for the explosives to be set off, thinking I’d be dead once they did go off. So when I noticed them, I left behind some ice spikes right next to them, knowing that more of your bullets would eventually come down the hall and hit them, causing an explosion that would in turn trigger your rigged claymores. Of course, I made my way here while your bullets were bouncing toward my ice.”

Jessica grimaced with annoyance. “And what are you going to do now? Even if you attack me, I’ll kill Clay before you can kill me.”

Tony smugged even further. “Not quite, I had the Fonz stealthily prep some ice spikes for your limbs.”

“What?” was all Jessica managed to say before two diagonal spikes of ice impaled her legs and arms. Losing Sniper’s Gambit, Jessica grunted in pain and deep anger, “How?! How the fuck did you even do that!? It shouldn’t be possible!”

Tony straightened out his jacket and posed. “I’m Tony, there ain’t no one like me sweetheart. Clay, care to do the honors?”

Clay examined his immobilized foe with chance. “Right!” The poor sniper’s eyes widened as Clay called forth Hannah Baker and let loose her fists of fury. “Ora ora ora ora ora ora!!! Ora!!!” Clay battle cried, each connected hit shattering Jessica’s bones while pulverizing her flesh. The barrage of hits broke apart Tony’s ice and sent the girl flying through the wall and out of the tower. The boys quickly rushed over to the new opening in the wall to look down at the girl splattered on the school grounds.

“Oh Jesus, we killed her,” Tony stated with slight discomfort looking at the corpse down below.

“W-we didn’t have a choice though, right Tony!?” Clay asked his friend with loss of murder virginity.

“Right, she’d have killed us if we didn’t take her out first,” Tony reassured his clearly shaken friend. “You’ll get used to it Clay, and remember, these are the people responsible for Hannah’s death.”

Clay sighed, “Right, I got this…”

The greaser punched his friend on the shoulder. “Come on champ I’ll buy ya an ice cream on the way home. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Clay said with some returning happiness.

It was a few hours later and Tony did indeed fulfill his promise to Clay of sweet frozen treats. He even let the loser get Pepsi flavored ice cream, just because he was such a good pal. But with phones retrieved and the cream iced, the two drove back to Mother Base with returning.

“We’re back,” Tony called out.

Snake sat in the living room’s recliner with a newspaper in hand and cigarettes packed into a pipe. “Hello boys.”

Otacon was off to the side with his new bulletin board of Metal Gear conspiracy theories, smiling at his returning comrades. “Hey fellas, good day at school today?”

“Another acquaintance of mine tried to murder us,” Clay explained.

“Great! Wait that’s bad…” the nerd corrected.

“We were gonna call you guys but our phones got taken,” Tony said with cellular device.

Otacon snapped his fingers joyously. “Well then I guess it’s a good thing starting tomorrow I’ll have you two hooked up to mine and Snake’s codec calls!”

“Codec?” Clay parroted.

Snake finished folding his newspaper into a hat and donned it as he explained, “It’s a reliable way for all of us to communicate privately at long or short distances.”

“Neato!” Clay joyed with newfangled gadgets.

“What’s all this?” Tony nodded in directions toward Otacon’s wacky board of mystery.

The nerd tipped his glasses. “Oh I’m just trying to gather all the information we have so far so that we can be better prepared for what’s to come, and possibly discover the identity of the ringleader.”

“But that can wait for now,” Snake said, crawling across the ground like a serpent. “It’s dinner time and the jocktroopers made us some steamed hams.”

Clay was already licking his lips in thought of the delicious meal he hadn’t tasted since his youth at an awkward family Thanksgiving. And so another day amongst his new team had passed by. He murdered another fellow classmate, and ended the day with a delicious ham provided by a jocktrooper who, for some reason, would not stop staring longingly at Clay from across the kitchen.

Bryce, however, was not in a well-lit kitchen surrounded by greasers and cigarettes. The football captain found himself in Porter’s dark menacing office.

“Jessica has died?” Porter repeated the words of Bryce questioningly.

“Yeah, she’s splattered on the pavement outside. It’s fucking sick bro! Er, well, I mean sick as in it’s pretty fucking gross that her body got all mangled, not sick as in cool.”

Porter sighed, “Perhaps Tony and Mr. Jensen are going to prove to be an issue after all.”

“Should I have Marcus or Courtney do something about it?” Bryce asked, thinking of the samurai and king.

“No, I need them to keep things running smoothly while we finish the Metal Gear.” Mr. Porter then rubbed his chin with knowledge of upcoming dates. “Have Alex deal with them.”

“Alex? Well you’re the boss,” Bryce said with a shrug.

Without warning the counselor’s door was kicked in to the accompaniment of sick rocking metal guitar solos. It was none other than Alex himself, covered head to toe in his punk rock spikes and leathers. “Yo, someone say my name?” Alex asked with a grin and ear piercing guitar screech.

Bryce backed away from the blonde boy in annoyance while Porter spoke calmly, restraining his misgivings about the little rock star. “I need you to kill Clay, Tony, and anyone else helping them. Do you understand?”

Alex strummed the strings of his rocking black death metal guitar. “All I gotta do is kill a couple of squares? Easy my man!”

“I hope so,” Porter uttered coldly to the rock and roll boy, who was now power sliding out of the room.

_To Be Continued_ \--->


	4. A Musical Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay and Tony clash with Alex after he challenges them to the big talent show

One thing Clay did enjoy about his new life of waking up early in the morn was getting to watch the sunrise while cracking open a cold one with the boys (the cold ones being Pepsi and Coke respectively. Clay was a good boy who didn’t drink, and Tony just vastly preferred the taste of Coke). Clay, Tony, and Snake were all sitting up on Mother Base’s rooftop enjoying said cold ones as the sun crawled over the horizon and began extorting the polar ice caps for money.

Sipping loudly on his red beverage, Tony spoke to the Snake, “Snake, I know Clay’s training is pretty important because he’s less experienced than the rest of us, but can you at least give him a break?” the Tonester finished with a casual point to Clay doing a one armed handstand while staring at the sun.

“My…eyes….burn!” Clay babied whilst his eyes burned and his hands tired.

Snake, sat cross legged, smoking his morning cigarette. “Metal Gears and Stand users are nothing to take lightly. Clay needs to be hardened in mind, body, and Stand in order to defeat the trials coming our way. You should already know this Tony.”

Tony thought back with a past dark as leather. “Right…”

The two were brought out of their conversation when Clay’s body made a sudden thud against the roofing material and then proceeded to slide off the slanted surface onto the front lawn.

“Hmm,” Snake hmmed while examining his olympic stopwatch. “Not bad considering he’s still an amateur.”

The head jocktrooper rushed outside to the side of Clay. “Boss! Are you ok?!”

Snake gracefully rolled off the roof and landed on top of the jocktrooper, flattening him onto the ground similar to Clay. “Get up kid.”

“I will…just give me a second…”

“Sometimes you won’t have a second on the battlefield Clay.”

Clay got onto his feet like a reluctant turtle. “Well then I guess it’s a good thing we’re on a suburban front lawn and not a battlefield.”

Snake harshly popped Clay on the mouth for his sass, speaking like a wisdomful mother, “Well it might be one day.”

It was at this point the mouth hurt Clay noticed some of the jocktroopers that they had acquired were setting up sandbags and mounting gatling guns outside.

Snake smiled internally with pride. “Now that we’re acquiring troops, we’ve been able to get to work turning Mother Base into a real Mother Base. Of course our group still needs a name, but we can worry about that later.” Fatherly, Snake shoved Clay with words, “Go get some breakfast and get ready for school, morning training is over.”

And that’s just what the fresh Stand user did. Snake was busy smoking and crawling outside, so it was only Otacon, Tony, and Clay sitting at the dining table enjoying some waffles on wheat bread.

“You know Clay, I’m surprised your parents aren’t dead,” Otacon offhandedly commented.

Clay choked on his glass of day old milk as he said, “Excuse me?”

Otacon shrugged innocently. “I don’t know it’s just that most protagonists usually have dead parents. Just surprised that’s all.”

Tony coughed with words, “Well let’s not go jinxing it Otacon. Besides, I’m sure Hannah’s death serves good enough as Clay’s dark backstory.”

“Do you have a dark backstory Tony?” Clay decided to ask without much thought.

“Totally not man!” Tony quickly answered before jumping out the window with car keys in hand. “I’ll get the car warmed up!” he shouted back.

“What was that about?” said Clay, brushing the freshly repaired broken window’s glass off his face.

“Not sure,” Otacon said. “Well, good luck with school today! And remember to give me a call on the codec if you need some assistance of intelligence,” Otacon reminded with a fierce tip of his shining glasses.

With farewells to each of the jocktroopers and Snake, Clay crawled into Tony’s mobile Coke dedication automobile and then they were off. As usual the Tonester was able to get the two them to their schoolhouse within mere minutes of what should have been a minutes long drive. However, as they entered onto the usual stomping grounds of learning and lunch money, the boys heard some killer tunes.

“It’s Alex,” Tony said under his breath with contempt.

Further pacing forth revealed it was indeed the totally straight blonde boy jamming out on his metal guitar of death metal. Many young lads and fawning females had gathered around to bask in the metal magnificence of the hip punk boy. As Clay and Tony walked by they could tell, even beneath his sick aviators, that Alex was watching them with a smile.

“He’s gotta be a Stand user, right?” Clay said with understanding of patterns.

Tony nodded. “No doubt. I can just feel the Stand juice seeping from his pores.” The boy and greaser walked into the schoolhouse continuing the topic of Alex, “Stay away from him for now. Without knowing his Stand ability it’d be dangerous to try and face him head on.”

Clay was going to agree with words of agreeance, but got distracted by a passing Sheri. The boy and girl passed each other, sharing a stare before moving on as if they hadn’t just stared at one another. Clay wasn’t certain but Sheri seemed colder than she had been in the past.

“Well that was odd,” Clay said.

“You know, Sheri hasn’t been coming to school too often as of late,” Tony pointed out with thoughts of his own. “Eh, maybe she’s just hitting a rebellious phase,” Tony chuckled like a grandmother.

Class times had started and Tony greased away to attend his first class while Clay did the same (minus the grease part). Thankfully the morning’s classes were peaceful and the boy could actually learn how to tie his shoes for once rather than be assaulted by knights or rude classmates. The troubles began however once Clay and Tony met up for their daily lunch. They sat and drank with brohood like usually, but the sounds of strummed guitar strings caught their attention.

A mighty chuckle and the murmur of his fan club signaled Alex was at their table. “How’s it going jucieboxes,” Alex greeted.

Tony kept his leathers cool and replied, “What do you want Alex?”

The punk boy continued to exude an air of cock and attitude. “Nothing much my man, just wondering if you’ll be attending the talent show tomorrow night?”

Tony scoffed, “Me? Join in on a school sanctioned event? I’ll pass.”

Alex nodded. “What about you Clay? You gonna compete in the tournament of talent?”

“Well I wasn’t planning on it?” Clay said to the punk boy getting very uncomfortably close to him.

The god of rocks that roll laughed heartily with a throat made for screams, “See? What’d I tell ya? These two rhombuses are too chicken to try and beat me in the talent competition!” Those words earned a big ring of agreements and praise from his fan club members.

Tony’s hand had already made a dent in his goblet the moment Alex’s words fell from his mouth. “What did you call me?”

Alex looked back to the greaser, tipping down his aviators in cockiness, following that up with a few tasty licks on his guitar. “I called you chicken my guy! I hear people say you’re hot stuff, but I know that leather jacket is just wrapped around a real square.”

Clay looked back to Tony to unexpectedly see Tony’s own fangirls had gathered around him in concern. “Don’t let him treat you that way Tony! Show him you’re the coolest cat around,” they all similarly said.

The Tonester stood from the table to stand nose to nose with the punk boy. “No one calls me chicken. I hope you’re ready to get your ass handed to you tomorrow by me and Clay!”

“Uh, I didn’t agree to this-“

Alex laughed, “Big words my big small boy! Let’s just see if there is any grease in that leather of yours!” With a powerful moonwalk and death metal shreds, Alex exited the room with his groupies.

Clay got up to the greaser’s level. “What did you just agree to!? You know I don’t have any talent! And how are we going to beat a guitarist master like Alex in a talent show?!”

Tony sighed, “I know, I’m sorry. I kinda said that in the heat of the moment, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“We don’t have to sign up you know,” Clay pointed out alternatively.

But Tony was already filling out a signup sheet one of his fangirls had brought him. “Nope, sorry Clay. He called us chicken, so we’ve gotta prove him wrong.”

Clay groaned, “So what are we going to do? We can’t use our Stands for some talent spectacle because no one can see them.”

Tony handed the filled out sheet to his fangirl who’d act as his courier, then answering Clay, “Why don’t we show up as a band?”

“You want to perform as a band against the best rock and rollist in town?”

“Yeah, they do that kinda shit in movies all the time!”

“Yes, but those people usually have a month long montage to get ready for the big competition!”

Tony shrugged. “Well too late now, let’s give Otacon and Snake a codec call to let em know they’re in the band too.”

In too deep with the musical scheme now, Clay decided to go along with Tony as he crouched down to activate the mighty codec call each had been given access to. With old timey ringing the boys entered into a four way codec call with the Snake and the nerd.

“Oh, it’s Clay and Tony! Did you boys need something?” Otacon asked motherly.

“You better not be goofing off in class,” Snake said while practicing his stranglehold on a jocktrooper (who loved every second of it).

“We’re fine right now, but you two are going to join our band,” Tony said.

“What?” Snake said with the sound of an accompanying bone crunch.

Clay sighed, “Tony just accepted a talent duel with Alex.”

“You mean the rebellious vaguely gay metal kid?” Otacon asked while examining his board of information.

“That’s the one.”

Tony cut back in, “I know its short notice, but we’ve gotta beat him tomorrow night at the talent show! So we’re going to form a band.”

Otacon gave a small laugh over the codec and was clearly tipping his glasses, “Well I play a mighty bass guitar!”

“If I have to, I suppose I could play my acoustic guitar,” Snake admitted reluctantly.

“See Clay, this is going to be great! And girls love musicians!” Tony chimed in directly at Clay.

“Fine let’s have band practice tonight then. We’re gonna need it,” Clay said.

With the burgeoning feelings of starting up an afterschool band, Clay and Tony quickly went through the motions of their afternoon classes so that they could head home and get ready to jam out and annoy the neighbors. When the day was done and the two boys entered Mother Base, to the now familiar “Welcome home bosses” from the jocktroopers, they met up with Snake and Otacon in the kitchen.

Leaning back in his chair with several cigarettes in mouth, Snake informed, “I’ve got us all the band equipment we’ll need in the garage.”

“Wow that was fast, how’d you do that?” Clay questioned with a surprised grin of not needing to purchase band supplies.

“……..” Snake didn’t respond, just giving the boy and empty stare.

* * *

_“Mother, I want to be a musician when I grow up!” baby Snake said with freshly bought band equipment._

_“No, you’re going to be a sneaky soldier. Also I’m not you mother,” the lady said to the baby serpent._

_“Oh….”_

* * *

Snake coughed, “I uh…found it in a storage unit.”

“Cool,” Clay simply cooled.

The four boss boys of Mother Base then skedaddled into the garage where they laid eyes upon Snake’s happened upon band equipment. Otacon took on the role of bass, Tony took up the mighty lead guitar, and it seemed Snake would handle vocals with an acoustic guitar.

“You’re going to be the one singing Snake?” Clay asked vocally.

“Of course. Otacon can’t sing, and you and Tony would probably mess it up.”

Clay accepted the answer but brought up another issue, “By the way, you guys know I don’t know how to play any instruments right?”

“Pfft,” Tony pfft’d, “Dude just use Hannah Baker to jam out madly on the drums!”

The baby of the group could only let out a breath as he shook his head, signaling he had given up arguing with the others at this point. The other three were into it, so Clay decided he’d do as Tony suggested and flail about on the drum kit like a ten year old that had been given a drum set.

Thankfully, there was one tune all the boys knew how to play. Nuclear by Mike Oldfield. The nerd and the greaser, despite being from two very different worlds, managed to strum their strings in smooth as ice harmony. Clay sat on his drummer stool watching as Hannah Baker continually broke drum sticks with her berserker style of drum play. And of course, like the super swell soldier that he was, Snake led the charge with gravelly vocals and smoke.

“Alright, all things considered, we sound pretty good,” Clay admitted.

Tony took a play out of Alex’s book and jammed out on his guitar. “See, everything’s working out fine! We’re gonna kill it tomorrow!”

“I concur!” concurred Otacon enthusiastically.

After all that vocal usage, Snake knew he had to recuperate with a healthy cigar. “Hmph, we were pretty good. But I think it’s time you two young men hit the hay.”

“It’s only 8:27,” Clay said with watch.

But Snake decided to hit the hay, and by hay I mean Clay, he hit him so hard in the face the young boy fell into a peaceful sleepy unconsciousness. Tony rolled his eyes and bashed himself over the head with his own guitar in order to join Clay, much to the approval of Snake. Otacon motherly dragged the boys off to bed.

After getting a healthy night’s rest, Clay once more trained in the early morn and then headed off to school with his best greaser pal. Just like the day before, Alex was outside jamming out in front of his groupies like some sort of hair metalist from the 80’s; cocaine and all. Each strum of his metal guitar strings was matched in time with the stepping of his rubbery shoes until he was in front of his adversaries.

“Well, well, well, llew,” welled Alex, “If it isn’t the frightened kittens from yesterday.”

Tony was instantly confrontational, “We’re not frightened! Or kittens! We’re gonna kick your ass tonight at the talent show with our fresh new band!”

“Ha!” Alex ha’d with more guitar solos. “Many bands have tried to fell me my man! Yours won’t be any different.” Alex then snapped his guitar worn fingers. “Girls, point and laugh.” And Alex’s groupies did as they had been told; pointing and laughing at Clay, making him feel like a small first grade boy.

Tony knew his pal might start to cry and want to go home early, so he had to get him out of there lickity split. “Don’t let em get to you Clay, we’ll show them when we defeat Alex with our own powerful tunes!”

Clay certainly didn’t like being laughed, especially by nameless background characters, and perhaps he shouldn’t have let it get to him. But deep down he wanted to punch Alex and his pristine lips, not just because of the whole Hannah thing, but because he was an asshole who’d play metal music during a grandma’s funeral.

Clay nodded at Tony with drumsticks in his heart. “Yeah, let’s rock out and topple his music career!”

The boys then high fived and threw a trashcan out a window in their excitement. But it was indeed school hours, so they calmed down and went to class in order to try and pursue an education, taking a break in the middle to devour a medieval lunch. By the time the bell had been rang by the school’s hunchback, Tony and Clay were already on their way home to get in one last practice session with Snake and Otacon.

When the final music note had been played the band all looked at each other with readiness.

Even Snake lit up two cigarettes with noticeable satisfaction from the smoke. “I think we’re ready to play. Let’s pack the equipment and pile into the bus.”

“Bus?” Clay asked with large car.

Snake hit the garage door button to reveal a waiting band bus that an astronaut could be proud of.

“Is this really necessary?” Clay questioned. “I think we could fit everything in Tony’s car if we tried-“

“Clay, just let me have this,” Snake said lowly, holding back the tears of a forgone music career.

Tony was totally into the bus ride, and Otacon had paid for it, so no one else got in Snake’s way as he got onto the bus of musical destiny. After parking diagonally in four parking spaces the Snake and the snake boys rolled through the parking lot and into the talent based gladiatorial arena (aka the auditorium). Upon entry they were met with the talent competition’s lone judge, King Marcus.

The Mother Base band froze at the sight of him, but the king just gave them a dismissive look followed by words, “Worry not you peasants, I’m not going to challenge you or stop you from participating. I greatly enjoy the spectacle of talent and am here simply to observe it. I don’t care if you can actually beat Alex or not.” The Marcus King didn’t wait for Clay to question things or for Tony to say something about leather, he instead hoisted his arms into a T-pose and had his royal bodyguards carry him inside.

From backstage, the Mother Base band set up their instruments and watched the competition from behind the curtains. There were jugglers, dancers, juggling dancers, some sort of weirdo in a gas mask, and Sheri (who just snapped someone’s neck for some reason, but Clay thought she was cute so he let it slide). Clay and team were the last to perform but the one before them was none other than Alex.

The metal straight boy sauntered toward Tony with a grin. “So Tony, this is your band? Clay, some nerd, and a nicotine addict?”

“That’s right!” Tony answered truthfully.

Alex chuckled quietly while revving up his guitar playing fingers. “Oh? Heh, well how about I give you a taste of my musical skillz before I perform!”

Like lightning quick as lightning, Alex jammed out a guitar solo in mere few seconds. Tony wasn’t very impressed by the solo though.

“That’s it?”

Alex grinned like the metal devil himself. “Yep, that’s it! Now, why don’t you be a functioning appliance and give me a taste of your skill?”

Tony smirked, guitar ready. “Gladly.” Tony’s full heart wasn’t in his tune, mayhaps it was because he didn’t want to reveal how much he had grown in the relative 24 hours. But that would be his undoing…

“Done already?” Alex asked, tipping his aviators down to look at Tony’s resting fingers.

“Yep,” replied the greaser.

Alex began to snicker, and then laugh, “Man, I don’t know what’s funnier! That weak ass performance, or the fact that you still don’t realize you’re in my Stand’s clutches!”

Everyone besides Snake simultaneously nani’d and saw the black and yellow aura spike around Alex. Looking behind himself, Tony saw a spooky spiky iron maiden with a ladylike skeletal face open up her mighty metal doors. With the doors open a gust of wind seemed to suck out The Fonz and then a ghostly version of Tony. When the torture device Stand closed its doors, the greaser fell to the floor with hollow eyes.

“Tony!? What’d you do to him you fuckboy!?” Clay shouted to Alex as he knelt beside Tony.

The metalist laughed like a screamo enthusiast, now with his Stand floating scarily behind himself. “I just stole his soul with the power of metal my man! Using my Stand, **Iron Maiden**!” Alex screamed almost as loud as his guitar.

Clay stood immediately with Hannah Baker’s fists ready to pluck some guitar strings, but Snake outheld a hand. “Wait Clay, he’s got our greaser hostage.”

“Ha! That’s right popsicles! Even if you killed me, Iron Maiden won’t give Tony’s soul back! The only way to get it back is to beat me in a musical competition!”

“Musical competition?” Otacon said with shaking glasses.

“Heh, that’s how grease boy wound up inside Iron Maiden,” Alex stated, then strumming a few guitar strings alight with aura. “I can only do it to one person at a time, but anyone who hears my 6.66 second guitar solo, Number of the Beast, and can’t beat it with their own musical passion will get their soul sucked out!”

Snake grimaced at Tony’s floppy body but he puffed his row of cigarettes calmly. “So you’re saying if we beat you with the power of music we’ll get Tony’s soul back?”

“That’s right reptile! But if you don’t knock Iron Maiden’s socks off, another one of you will lose your soul!”

“Clay, grab the instruments,” Snake said like a father requesting a shotgun.

“What?”

“We’re playing as a band. Just like we practiced.”

“Tony is literally a husk on the ground right now!” Clay shouted with outstretched hands to the lifeless Tony body being prodded by Otacon. “We can’t play when we’re down a member.”

“Heh, well you losers can sort that out while I go please the crowd!” Alex mouthed musically as he power slid out on stage.

The boys poked their heads out of the curtains to observe Alex tearing it up on his metal guitar faster than a teenager who just obtained a driving license. Alex’s groupies could easily handle the tunes and head banged with passion, but newcomers to the school spasmed whilst their skeletons dissolved. In total, Alex must’ve killed at least 20 students just with the power of metal. Even the high and mighty King Marcus could nod along to the metal.

As the totally straight boy neared the end of his ballad, Clay looked back to the crew with worry. “Aw man, how are we gonna beat that!? We aren’t just gonna lose the talent show, we’re going to lose our souls!” Clay babied.

Snake flicked a finished cigarette at his musical companion. “If you think like that kid you let the enemy win. Souls on the line or not we’ll beat this teenage rock god.”

“But we’re still down a band member,” Clay reminded.

“Maybe I can help,” a voice of mystery offered.

Just like an old sitcom Clay’s father would enjoy, the boy and two men looked toward the stranger who wandered back stage. One look and they all knew who it was.

“David Bowie!” Clay exclaimed, “What are you doing here?!”

“I was just enjoying the labyrinth that young boy king built out on the track field when I heard there was a talent show going on. When I was coming in I heard your friend there got his soul snatched, rather unfortunate business huh?”

“Sure is Mr. Bowie!” Clay agreed with the star.

While Snake looked at the man with silent admiration, Otacon faintly mumbled in confusion, “Isn’t this guy dead?”

But all ignored the nerd and didn’t care to hear what he said after hearing David say, “Well I’m more of a singer, but if you need someone to take up your friend’s guitar, I’m your man.”

Clay got that dumb smile of his he couldn’t control sometimes (like when Hannah would complement his shoe laces, which she thought were actually dumb, but she’d humor him every now and then). “Really!? Thanks a bunch Mr. Bowie!”

From beyond the curtains the sounds of death and metal had finally calmed, and in walked in Alex.

“Beat that losers!....Is that David Bowie?”

“You bet your ass it is,” Snake answered with admiration toward Mr. Bowie.

Alex was honestly not expecting such a star to let losers orbit around him. “Well....um…Anyway, you juice boxes can’t beat my performance!”

It was time to put that theory to the test. Instruments in hand, the fresh new band rolled out on stage with presence. The audience murmured many a thing as the Mother Base band got set up.

“That chainsmoking vocalist is pretty hot.”

“That nerd looks like he knows a thing or two about Japan.”

“Isn’t that Clay Jensen? Wasn’t he friends with that weird girl?”

“Is that David Bowie?”

Marcus too had comments. “They managed to get a musical icon to assist them. A strategy I haven’t seen since I first rose to the throne. This will be most interesting.”

With Tony’s life on the line and the newfound assistance of David Bowie, Clay was more than ready to jam out on the drums with the power of Hannah Baker. Nuclear by Mike Oldfield was put into motion as each bandmate played their part. Otacon was slightly nervous playing in front of a crowd, but the thoughts of a certain musical anime kept his head clear and his thoughts positive. David didn’t bring Tony’s greaser charm but he did bring in oozing music charm, which caused many a woman (and some men) in the audience to piss their pants in amazement. Clay played like the wind on the drums, but it was a very moderate to slow wind on account of the fact the song wasn't very fast paced.

Snake’s vocals had tied it all together, only a slippery serpent of a man whom had smoked far too much nicotine could have given life to such a performance. Men felt their hearts shake, women sobbed, boys and girls didn’t really feel much because they were into vaping or some shit. King Marcus was reluctantly affected as well, visible for all to see by the single tear rolling down his face.

“Are you alright your majesty?” one of his guardians asked, shocking the king into remembering who and where he was.

“Perfectly fine, now be silent or you’ll be put to the sword!” Marcus answered hastily with a threat.

“Yes my liege.”

When all was finished the band waited in silence for a few seconds before the crowd had erupted into many cheers, claps, slaps, and even maps. Tony’s fans weren’t too happy to see the greaser not apart of the performance but they clapped anyway.

David Bowie then turned to his momentary bandmates. “Well young man it was fun performing with you, good luck with your friend and that metal kid.”

“Thanks Mr. Bowie!” Clay thanked.

The Bowie laughed and tussled Clay’s hair, “You can just call me David.” As David began to float away with style he looked to the Snake who was looking back at him. “Oh and Mr. Snake. As far as vocalists go. You’re pretty good,” he said with a smile and wink before floating off.

Snake turned away to hide the tiny tear that managed to escape his manly eye. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear…” Snake said quietly.

King Marcus was carried on stage ready to make an announcement. “Well as much as it pains me to admit it, Clay your band was the best performance of the night.”

“NOOOO!” Alex cried from backstage while leaping out to front stage. “Marcus, what’s the game here man!? You’re really saying that these frick fracks were more metalicious than me!?”

“Yes. And it seems your Iron Maiden is proof of their superiority as well,” the king acknowledged the floating Stand.

Iron Maiden continued to shake until suddenly The Fonz and Tony burst out with slickness. The greaser returned to his body upon the dirty floor and immediately shot up with smooth greaser moves.

“Woo! I don’t know what the fuck happened but I feel great! Let’s get out there and put on a great show!”

“We already won the talent show Tony,” Clay told his now revived friend.

Tony only then noticed Alex the punk boy crying on the ground in shame. He was happy to see such a sight but felt hollow having missed the buildup. “Soooo, you’re saying I missed our big music number and the part where we beat Alex? Even though this whole thing was my idea?”

“Yeah, sorry man. Really glad you’re okay though!” Clay said.

Snake coughed, “I think you’re forgetting something Clay.”

“Huh, oh right!”

Alex’s aviator’s slick with tears and broken dreams fell from his face as he looked up to see Clay and Tony looming over him. The metal lad scooted back in terror. “H-hey dudes take it easy! I was just doing as I was told!”

“Who’s your boss?!” Tony barked.

“Like I’d tell you that! You jerkwads killed Jessica!”

“...So are you going to tell us or die?” Tony questioned.

“Uh…well I don’t want to die…but I can’t tell you either. Aw fiddlesticks this is a real pickle.”

Those would be Alex’s last words. Tony summoned The Fonz to impale Alex on some nice sturdy ice spikes, which Clay then used to beat Alex with via Hannah Baker for minutes on end. Of course accompanied by, “Ora ora ora ora ora ora! Orrrraaaa!!!” Soon the broken body of Alex the rock god was lifeless on the floor.

Tony sighed, “It’s all good, we can still question Marcu-“

Turning back caused the boys to see Snake sitting atop three motionless knights of old. “Tried to catch king kid, his goons got in the way.”

“Damn it!” Tony cursed.

He didn’t stay mad for too long however. Not after Snake’s good mood got the better of himself and he decided to treat the gang to some milkshakes. Although they still didn’t know who the ringleader was, they at the very least had another victory under their belts. But things were only going to get much harder from here.

* * *

Within the dark office, Marcus sat across from Porter with his usual kingly way of sitting, almost as if they were equals. Something Porter found incredibly amusing.

“And that’s the long and short of it,” finished Marcus.

“So Alex got into a musical duel with Clay, and the day was miraculously saved by David Bowie?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s annoying.”

“Personally, I found it quite the enjoyable experience,” Marcus commented.

Porter sighed in annoyance from having another lackey be taken out by some virgin and a kid obsessed with Happy Days.

“Fear not my friend; I’ve already requested help from a freelance worker to handle the situation. They shalt not see it coming,” Marcus informed the Porter.

_To Be Continued --->_


	5. An Unexpected Ally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Stand user comes to end the lives of Clay and Tony, but will this confrontation end in another pummeling?

It was a bright sunny Monday morning for the boys of Mother Base. After enjoying a weekend of Guitar Hero and water slides, all were refreshed and ready to get back to school. Except Snake and Otacon, both had degrees and no longer needed to attend educational institutes.

“Are you sure it’s safe to go back to school? Won’t Marcus be after us now?” Clay asked the Tonester who was standing by the toaster, toasting his coke.

“Eh, he probably got some lackey ready to kill us and is too busy with jousting fights to bother with it personally. We’ll just have to keep an eye out for this said lackey during our lessons today.”

“Just try not to get into too much trouble boys,” Snake warned, crawling out from underneath the oaken table. “I’ll be here all day treating Otacon’s clumsily broken wrist.”

Otacon sat inches away with his right wrist in critical condition. “It wouldn’t be broken if you didn’t break it in a blind fit of rage when I didn’t play Another One Bites The Dust well enough on Guitar Hero!”

Snake glared. “Yes, I better stay here to make sure he doesn’t ‘clumsily’ break his other wrist.”

With the sounds of parental fighting, Clay and Tony crawled out the window and into Tony’s waiting hotrod. After popping the occasional wheelie on the way over, the boys were once more at school. However, it seemed things had changed over the weekend. All around the place were numerous cluttering of photographs on the walls, floors, and ceilings.

Tony sighed, “Did the photography club come back in full swing?”

“Come back?” Clay came back with worded question.

“Last year the photography club started their own regime to exterminate all the sports clubs. They did a number on the lesser clubs, but the allied forces of the football, basketball, and baseball teams were too much for them to handle. After the photography club faced numerous deaths and defeats, the sports clubs divvied up the territories of the broken photography club and let the survivors run away,” Tony explained. “But I guess they’ve come out of whatever hole they’ve been hiding in.”

Clay looked around cautiously. “Think this could be Stand related?”

“Pffft,” Tony pffft’d, “Clay, just because something weird is going on doesn’t mean it’s Stand related.”

After saying those words of unworry, Tony saw three black uniformed photography students watching him.

“What do you want weirdos?” Tony barked like a rough greaser from the 70’s.

The three odd children scampered off with cameras in hand.

“Now I’m just gonna say it,” Clay began, “but did those look like Nazi uniforms?”

Tony looked aghast. “Clay! I didn’t see no swastikas on those uniforms! Did you!?”

“No…Just red arm patches with scary looking black cameras in the center of a white circle,” Clay said with words.

“And does that sound like a Nazi uniform to you Clay?” Tony questioned like an older brother speaking to a young lad who knew nothing of history.

“Uh…no?”

“Right, anyway it’s time for class. So let’s roll!” Tony smoothly yelled, greasing his way to class.

Meanwhile the photography children rolled into the new dark dingy photography club room in order to find Tyler. Said boy wore a uniform much like theirs, but he had an officer’s cap because he was important.

“Tyler, sir, Clay and Tony came to school today and went to their first classes!”

Tyler examined his mighty camera and smiled. “Thank you my friends.”

“Should we accompany you to kill them sir?” one of the beta camera boys asked.

“No, Marcus gave ME this task, and I must carry it out. For the sake of our photography club we must slay Clay.” Tyler strolled over to one of his prized mounted photos. A picture of Hannah Baker flipping off the elderly. “Oh Hannah, forgive me, but I must work with those jerks in order to survive.”

* * *

Clay walked annoyedly down the hall in order to head to lunch. He was annoyed because of all the photographs littering the floor that were now getting stuck in his socks like a puppy in bicycle spokes. “Stupid pictures…” Clay grumbled.

“Glad you like them,” a cuck voice cucked.

Snapping around like a snap dragon, Clay saw directly behind him was Tyler, the photography boy! Who was definitely/might not be dressed in Nazi-esque attire! Clay wasn’t confused by that though, he was confused how Tyler had suddenly appeared directly behind him.

“How did you appear directly behind me!?” Clay yelled in too much surprise.

“None of your concern Clay, because you’re already dead,” Tyler lied as he pulled out a pistol in order to actually commence with the aforementioned death.

Not caring for property damages billed to his parents, Clay summoned Hannah Baker's muscly armed fist to punch down a nearby classroom door, rolling into the room using one of the sick serpent rolls Snake had taught him while they baked cinnamon rolls. Before Tyler of camera town could burst into the room after the baby Stand user, Clay used Hannah’s precise hands to grab and quickly throw the desks in the room against the hole of the doorway. With no attic to hide in, Clay decided to just jump out the window and flee further, using his handy dandy codec to give his homeboy a ring.

“Tony!” Clay cried with running legs over his wide spread communication device.

“What’s wrong man? I’m sitting in the dining hall trying to balance Coke cans on my head waiting for your white ass.”

“Tyler is chasing me and I’m pretty sure he’s a Stand user!” Clay cried further, leaping into another window and back into the school’s halls.

“Ah shit, hold tight buddy I’m coming to help,” Tony reassured reassuringly like a big brother coming to beat up the local school yard bully.

Clay breathed from running and relief, “Good, once I meet up with Tony we can take Tyler on together!”

“You sure about that Clay boy?” a familiar voice snapped like a camera as Clay rounded a corner to see Tyler!

The photography leader held up his tiny pistol and fired it as if he was shooting a headshot, which he was technically trying to do. Clay thought this was it, no boy could survive a bullet to the frontal lobe. A big man or giraffe? Maybe. But not a boy! However Clay wasn’t just a boy, he was a boy with a muscular lady Stand at his side! Hannah Baker’s mighty arm ghostily shot out of Clay in front of him in order to grasp the speeding bullet between her thumb and index finger. Clay hadn't realized that the Baker of Hannah was fast enough to catch a speeding bullet!

Seeing Tyler too was momentarily stunned, Clay tossed aside the bullet and sought reason. “Tyler why are you trying to kill me!? Didn’t you like Hannah?!”

“You know I did!” Tyler shouted with beta.

“Then why the fuck are you helping the people that killed her!?” Clay questioned further.

“It’s not like I want to! I need to do it to survive, so they don’t kill me and my clubmates when they take over! They all laugh and make fun of me because I secretly took pictures of Hannah without her consent while I stalked her!” Tyler babied with bullies.

“…….” Clay had very mixed feelings about that last part. “Well look, me and my guys won’t make fun of you.”

“…Really?” Tyler asked with some modicum of hope.

Until that hope was shattered by the Tonester who had slid in exclaiming the words, “Don’t worry Clay, I’m here to help you kick that creepy beta cuck’s ass!”

Now with a renewed look of anger, Tyler spun around to fire the rest of his clip at the sudden arrival greaser, who in turn had to block the shots with a spike of ice. But before Tony could pummel, or before Clay could spit out more words, Tyler struck a pose for no reason and fell backwards into one of the countless piles of photographs littering the school. The photography boy wasn’t lying on the floor like a street artist however, he had vanished!

Perhaps it was due to his greaser instincts but Tony immediately sought to get Clay out of the possible danger zone by shoving him and himself out the nearest window. Clay knew he’d be needing Otacon themed surgery from how many windows he was slamming through.

“Tony! I was trying to talk him down!” Clay chastised the leatherbound Tony.

“And how the fuck was I supposed to know that Clayboy? Why were you trying to reason with a weirdo like Tyler anyway?” Tony questioned as he helped his pal up so the two could go jump into another hallway window.

“Yeah he’s a bit weird and dresses dangerously close to a Nazi, but I don’t think he’s working directly with the Metal Gear group.”

“What?” Tony what’d as his shoulder shattered more school property.

“I think he’s being threatened by Marcus or one of the others to kill us. He could give us useful info if we got him to come over to our side,” Clay explained.

Tony smiled at the boy formally and still known as Clay Jensen as he pulled glass out of his shoulder blade. “Look at you thinking like a real boy! I guess Snake is rubbing off on you.”

Clay kicked some stray photography and rubbed the back of his embarrassed noggin. “You think so?”

But there was no time for thinking or so, because Tyler jumped out of a pile of pictures on the floor like a child jumps off the last two steps on a set of stairs. “Oh shit!” the boy said under his breath in embarrassment, “Didn’t think you were looking this way. Thought I’d get the drop on you like last time…anyway get ready to die chads!”

Tony held up his hand in befuddled statements and tipped his sunglasses snarkily. “While I do consider myself to hold many chad qualities, I do not identify with that crowd. And Clay’s a virgin so he’s out automatically.”

“Dude!”

“What? It’s true.”

Clay brushed aside Tony’s chad comments and pointed things back toward the power of Tyler. “How’d you suddenly appear out of nowhere anyway?”

Tyler gave a smile only a professional Photoshop expert could make. “Heh, guess I can explain it to you since you’re about to die.” Tyler’s silver aura flared as a phantom appeared behind him. No, not a phantom. An enemy Stand! It was an incredibly skinny metal robot lad dressed in old nerd clothes from the 70’s, pocket protector and all, and the ghostly figure’s head was that of a professional camera. To say the least, it was bizarre.

Tyler gave a pose, weak in comparison to Clay and crew’s mighty poses, but a pose nonetheless. “I was able to appear with the power of my Stand, **Look at this Photograph**!”

Tired of Stand explanations, the Tonester slickly shouted for The Fonz, which sent a slithering row of ice spikes toward the camera Nazi. Tyler in turn simply fell backwards and once more seemed to vanish into the random scatterings of his photography on the ground.

“Damn it!” Tony shouted as he ran over and kicked the photos on the floor. “These pictures all over the place have something to do with his bullshit Stand, we need to get outside where there aren’t as many.”

“Right,” Clay righted as he jogged with Tony toward the school entrance.

Taking many twists and turns while shoving aside small peasant children, the boys knew they were nearing the mighty school doors of entering. But the often cool running Tony suddenly let out a groan as someone pulled on the collar of his leathery black leather jacket. Now in his grasp and pointing a gun at the greaser, Tyler made himself known to Clay, who quickly did a heel turn as his he were using heelies (which he wasn’t because his mother thought he’d look like a fag if he wore them. A comment Clay didn’t find very kind nor politically correct).

“You don’t need to die Clay!” Tyler shouted. “You can skip town and I’ll only kill Tony. Marcus will accept this and you can live out your days in peace.”

Worried he’d be capped instantly in the dome if he used The Fonz, all Tony could do was cry, “There won’t be peace for anyone if those fuckers build a goddamn Metal Gear!”

Clay inched forward, but that only made Tyler cover the gun in lipstick so it could kiss Tony’s temple better. “Clay I’m only letting you go because you’re a fellow beta cuck.”

“Wha-!? I’m not-“

“You are though! You were, for Hannah. I get it man, but she’s dead now. Neither of us could save her, but we can still save ourselves!”

Out of the corner of his eye Clay could see his Stand, Hannah Baker, had already manifested. Perhaps he had just imagined it, but Clay coulda sworn he heard his Stand speak to him. Hannah's hollow voice rang in his head, "Come on Clay, you ain't gonna actually bail on your homies and lay low in some other shithole town, right? Because that wouldn't be very gucci my guy." Clay could almost feel as if he was back at his old theater job, standing with Hannah as she secretly doodled cruel and obscene images onto Clay's bike helmet. "So, are you gonna run?"

“No…” Clay said. The SS camera boy looked at his fellow Stand user in confusion. “To hell with that! I’m not some beta cuck! And I’m not going to run from Hannah’s murders! I refuse!” the boy shouted with a few more steps forward.

“Y-You idiot! We can’t beat them! Hell, we couldn’t even beat Marcus if we wanted to!”

Faster than Tyler could react, Clay was upon him, and the cuckboy was well within Hannah Baker’s range. The ghostly buff woman quickly disarmed him, cast aside Tony, and lifted the boy up by his WWII reminiscent uniform’s collar and shoved him against some nearby medieval lockers. “Look Tyler, I’ll give it to you straight. You’re a creep, and you do some dumb things, but I know there’s a decent guy somewhere in there. Join us! Make things right with Hannah by avenging her! Help me kill her killers!”

Tony got up cautiously with The Fonz at the ready, waiting for the camera cuck to try something funny. But Tyler's face twisted into that of a kicked puppy when he examined the likeness of Clay’s Stand in comparison to the real woman. The photography club president dropped his firearm, and so Clay let his booted feet hit the floor as well.

“Clay I….I’m sorry. They always excluded me from their fun shenanigans and I wanted to be apart of their cool club....Even though most of their activities were usually fucked up and Metal Gear related. And even after they killed Hannah…sure I was angry, but part of me just wanted Bryce, Marcus, and the rest of them to just leave me alone. So when Marcus came and told me all I had to do was kill you I-“

Clay shushed the boy with the ghostly finger of Hannah Baker. “It’s ok Tyler, you were being used like shamwow. But that changes today,” Clay reassured with an outstretched hand, which Tyler gratefully took.

Tony sighed with unworthy redemption, “If you’re coming back to Mother Base with us, lose the armband and hat.”

“Right…” Tyler german’d as he discarded said articles of clothing.

Tony stroked his slick eyebrows with questions. “By the way, how does your Stand work exactly?”

“Huh? Oh, my Stand lets me enter any photograph I’m in,” Tyler explained as he lifted an embarrassing photo of himself at the school Christmas party off the ground. “As long as I’m somewhere in it, I can enter and hide in the picture. Of course I can’t leave if someone folds the picture or if the image is covered by something.”

“Wait so how did you move around the school?” Tony questioned for details.

Tyler pointed a finger to a nearby group of photography clubs members (who the boys only now noticed, which was surprising because they were all having a rousing game of leap frog). “They stealthily moved me around the school whenever I used my Stand.”

“Ah, I see,” Tony nodded alongside The Fonz.

Tyler rubbed his head like a shy school girl from an Asian country. “Sooo, what now?”

“Arby’s anyone?” Clay asked with eyebrows and smiles.

Tony chuckled, “Haha, oh that’s gay! But they have Coke, so sure!”

Walking out of the school and dispatching a few knights who were performing their duty of stopping truancy, the two Mother Base boys along with their new recruit piled into Tony’s hotrod in order to order post-lunch from the nearby Arby’s. Afterwards they returned to Mother Base, having to explain Tyler as if he were an unexpected pregnancy.

Snake spat a cigarette at Tyler. “Hmm, so this kid is a Stand user who was hired by Marcus to kill you?”

“Yep,” Tony answered.

“But he liked Hannah, and the Metal Gear crew were big bullies to him?”

“Mhmm,” Clay hmm’d with mmm’s.

“And you can’t tell us anything about their leader?”

“Nope,” Tyler answered while taking a picture of Snake’s chin.

Snake chewed on a cigarette as if he were chewing on his own thoughts. “Well I don’t usually associate with cucks.”

“Hey!” Tyler took offense, “What about that guy?” he accused toward Otacon; who was watching his eastern animations like usual.

Otacon smiled with tipped glasses. “Can’t be called a cuck if all your classmates are dead!”

Everyone was incredibly uncomfortable and concerned by what the nerd just said but managed to look past it. Snake likes him, so he’s cool. Right?

“As I was saying,” Snake saying’d, “I don’t usually work with cucks, but I know we can make you into a diamond. A very cheap, course, and rough diamond, but a diamond nonetheless.”

“Thank you so much Mr. Snake, I won’t let you down!” Tyler thanked with dork and cameras.

And so Mother Base added another Stand user into its ranks. And with the help of the photography nerd, the boys would gain intel and nutrient facts about their upcoming adversaries.

* * *

Porter tossed aside his jazz magazine and landed it perfectly upon Marcus’s pointy crown of kingdom. “So Marcus, did that potential school shooter shoot Clay and his greaser?”

Uncrossing his kingly legs and removing the reading material from his skull, Marcus answered, “No, they gave him the slip apparently, but he said he’d keep trying.”

“Hmmph,” Porter noised with unimpressed.

“Another thing is that Courtney might be out for a few days, I'm still waiting for her confirmation. Apparently she wants to make sure her yakuza are still loyal to her before we unleash the metal beast that slumbers beneath.”

“Very well. And what about the Sheri issue, has that been dealt with?” Porter asked with scary eyes.

“No. She’s been absent from school for countless days, and when she does come she manages to avoid my knights. But is she really worth worrying over?”

Porter spun in his chair to look menacingly at the king (and also just for the fun of it). “You know as well as I do she’s aware of Hannah’s death and whats going on around here. The fact that she hasn’t joined us and is actively avoiding us makes me…concerned.”

Marcus shrugged. “As long as she doesn’t pose an active threat or help Clay, I don’t see an issue with letting the wench run free.”

Little did the two men know that the girl in question was hidden within the air ducts of the ceiling, listening in with well cleaned ears. Sheri listened to conversations and magazine debates for a bit longer before slinking backwards like a slinky in order to report back to her master.

_To Be Continued_ _\--->_


	6. Kill Courtney

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of Tyler, and two new robotic individuals, the team prepares to kill the town's local yakuza leader.

Yet another dawn dawned on the rooftops of Mother Base. The sprinklers were already active and watering the jocktroopers who were manually watering the grass blanketing the front lawn covered in defensive weaponry and sandbags filled with gravel.

But unlike in other days, the boys of Mother Base would be playing hooky. Not to visit the local arcade or to be public nuisances to actual functioning members of society. No, they had the approval from Snake to skip school on this day because a certain camera loving cuck had neat info for them. And so they waited for this boy by eating pancakes made by the head jocktrooper, who had also made Clay’s in the shape of hearts for some reason the Stand using boy could not discern.

While they were enjoying their morning meal, Tyler busted through the recently taped up kitchen window, sending shattered glass and silly tape flying. Disdainfully pulling glass and adhesive out of his Coke drenched pancakes, Tony said, “This better be some good fucking intel Tyler! You just shattered my dreams of a good breakfast along with the window!”

Dodging the Coke can threw at him and brushing himself off, Tyler apologized, “Really sorry about that, just trying to get used to how you do things around here.”

Snake sighed with morning cigarettes in his morning coffee, “Jumping in and out of windows isn’t how we do things around here. Tony just does it, and it’s an annoying habit Clay’s been picking up on.”

“Sorry…” Clay apologized with broken living room window.

After reaching a scrawny white hand at the plate of pancakes, and then having that hand slapped by Tony, Tyler stepped away from the table and began. “Anyway, you guys want to kill Courtney, right?”

“Not particularly?” Clay said.

“She’s with Marcus and them, right?” Tony asked to confirm.

Tyler firmly nodded. “That she is. If Marcus and Bryce weren’t around she’d probably be the school’s top dog.”

Otacon chuckled, “Dog is a part of Chinese cuisine!”

“What the fuck has been up with you and weird comments these past few days?” Snake asked with a baffled eyebrow toward his old nerdy chum.

“…..Anyway! So yeah, Bryce has his jocks and Marcus has…well a lot of people. But Courtney has the local yakuza clan as well as the Japanese culture club in her pocket. All three of them working together at once to stop us would definitely suck,” Tyler explained with many pictures taped to popsicle sticks so he could play out how badly these characters would beat up the Mother Base boys.

Snake leaned back in his chair coolly. “So we’ll kill this girl before they can unite. I like it.”

“How the hell is she in control of a yakuza clan? We live in a simple American village, why are they even here?!” Clay questioned.

“Her parents used to be the heads of the clan. They came here to America to monopolize our town with rice and karaoke.” Preparing for his further explanations, Tyler got Otacon to help him wheel out a large whiteboard. With a huff thanks to his weak muscles, Tyler continued, “Eventually, Courtney killed her parents and took over the clan.” The camera boy slapped multiple espionage pictographs onto the whiteboard. “And in order to maintain good relations with her underlings she’ll be having dinner with them tomorrow night here!” Tyler yelled with a point to a goofy Japanese themed building.

Otacon looked excited (because of course he was) while Snake looked confused. “And that place is?”

“A sort of Japanesey bar/restaurant type thing called the House of Blue Leaves,” Tyler localized the locale in question.

“Ok, so we go there tomorrow night and kill her,” Tony stated with simple, “what’s her Stando power?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t close enough with any of them to know that kinda info,” Tyler stood. “But, I do have info on when she’ll arrive, what she’ll do, and what security will be lookin’ like.”

“Ah, the skills of a stalker,” Tony laughed with serious problem Hannah Baker had in the past with the peeping Tyler.

“EX-stalker!” Tyler emphasized.

Snake stood using his manly leg muscles. “Well ex-stalk or not, he got us the info we need to take out this Stand using teenage samurai. Otacon, help the kid compile all the intel on that whiteboard so we can plot and scheme later.”

“Why wouldn’t we just put his stuff on the bulletin board I have in the living room?” Otacon argued with boards.

“Because having the big info board in the kitchen is more convenient,” Snake sagely wisdomed as he moved over to the fridge packed full of cigarettes. Cracking open a cold one (a chilled cigarette packet that is) Snake pulled out the home’s dusty home phone from a nearby drawer. “Since we’re going to be doing battle with an Asian girl and a yakuza clan, I think it’s time we gave our old friend a call.”

“Who?” Clay asked, lacking Metal Gear knowledge.

“Do you mean Raiden?” Tony guessed.

“Yep,” said Snake, already lying down on the kitchen table like a young school girl calling one of the local girls she associates with despite the fact the two of them secretly hate each other but call and hang out to keep up appearances to their mutual friends.

“Who the hell is Raiden?” Clay asked.

“Edgy katana wielding ninja cyborg man. Who’s also friends with Snake,” Tony explained.

Snake slithered into the next room with phone in hand as Tyler and Otacon began organizing things on the whiteboard. Tony kicked open the fridge like a bad boy (but not too bad because he still wanted the respect of any youngsters watching him as a role model) and shoved aside Snake’s mountain of refrigerated cigarette cartons in order to access his bounty of Coke. The quite frankly generic beverage sloshed in the greaser’s mouth as he spoke with his amigo.

“Man Clay, to think, just yesterday we were being chased by a ball boy. And now we’re planning to murder countless men, women, and children from our school, all inside a Japanese style building that shouldn’t exist in this generic American town!”

“Yeah, I guess?” Clay guessed. Clay still had a ways to go before he could be on par with his companions, but Tony’s reminder of events served to remind him that he was growing as a Stand using CQC boy, much like the mighty grass grows on the lawn of a family away on a three week vacation and were too lazy or cheap to have someone take care of it while they were gone.

Both boys were brought out of their memories of balls and grass however when they heard the sound of the front door being sliced open. Peeking out into the entryway the two pals saw an un-pal-like guy stepping into the residence. A robotic cyborg man with hair white as a blank sheet of paper, and an eye red as an edgy apple. The katana within his robotic grip signaled to Clay that this must be Raiden! Cyborg lord of edge and the way of the blade!

“You’re paying for that,” Snake billed the cyborg looming in the doorway, whilst also flicking a still lit cigarette at him in greeting.

Raiden grunted like a character with a tragic backstory as he sheathed his katana.

“You sure got here quick,” Tony commented to Raiden as he strolled into the abode.

“Was in the neighborhood when Snake gave me a call,” Raiden said with his strained Quinton Flynn voice. “I was taking someone out for a walk.”

And then just like a Nintendo console receiving a young boy for Christmas, Clay’s face alit with surprise and joy at the sight of Raiden’s companion coming through the door. It was a fierce looking robo dog that walked like a lion but had the fashion sense of a wolf.

“I see you brought Blade Wolf,” Snake said with a mouth that smelled of smoke.

“Yeah, figured you wouldn’t mind the extra set of paws,” Raiden answered, only hoping he could sound a fraction as gruff as Snake.

The robot dog paced forth to sit next to Raiden, flashing red with talking noises. “You said extra set of paws instead of the actual saying ‘extra set of hands’. This is humorous because I closely resemble a canine and not a human. You may now laugh at my partner’s wordplay.”

None laughed, but Clay could no longer hold back and stumbled forth to kneel in front of the wonder of modern robotics. “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Raiden, where’d you get this cool dog!?” Clay said like a white girl as he began to pet Blade Wolf’s head.

“You must be Clay,” Raiden named. “Blade Wolf and I met under interesting circumstances. Right boy?”

“Affirmative. Sparing my life after I tried to murder you was quite interesting.” Noticing Clay’s hand pulling away he quickly narrowed his dark red mechanical pupils back onto Clay and ordered, “Don’t stop.” The young American teen hesitantly obliged and kept petting, much to the joy of the artificial hound.

“Enough chit chat,” Raiden chitted the chat, “give me the debriefing on what we’ll be doing.” And then he walked into the kitchen with Snake like some sort of edgy D&D character who rushes to take the main quest before the other party members can actually properly ask the quest giver what they’ll be doing.

Looking back to Blade Wolf, Clay could see he was pleased by the pets. Wagging his chainsaw tail the dog beast said, “Clay Jensen, I like you. Unlike Tony, you pet me and scratch me behind the ears. If you are dying on the battlefield I may choose to save you.” And then he prowled into the kitchen to most likely go sit next to Raiden in order to fulfill the inner sense of dog loyalty housed within his metallic skeleton interior.

Tony sighed, “I like Raiden man, but all those cyborg enhancements just make me uncomfortable. And Blade Wolf ain’t bad, but man, what’s wrong with getting a normal dog?” he continued to complain to Clay as they too joined the team in the kitchen.

“I’ll have you know I need most of this cyborg shit to survive you little leather fiend,” Raiden barked from his seat in the room of eatery.

Clay didn’t know Raiden well enough yet to defend him, but he was a sucker for robotic animals, so he defended. “Tony! Don’t tell me you’re some kinda robo racist!?”

“What!? No man, I just think too much technology is a bad thing! I mean, look at Metal Gears! Having robot men and robot dogs running amok would seriously bite for a simple greaser like me! No offense you two,” Tony shielded the offense away from Raiden and Blade Wolf.

Raiden just casted his gaze sidelong so he could pretend to be brooding about dark shit. But Blade Wolf retorted, “You never take me on walks when Raiden asks you to pet sit.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “That’s another thing! You don’t need walks! Hell, you don’t even need a sitter; you are literally an A.I powered robot dog! I’ve seen you file Raiden’s taxes! How can you not just take yourself on a walk!?”

“Your heart is as black as the leather wrapped around your shoulders,” Blade Wolf answered poetically.

“That’s enough you four,” Snake worded the boy's way with a row of cigarettes in his mouth to signify authority. “Tyler and Otacon are done messing with the whiteboard, so it’s time to begin planning.”

“Hey, woah, hold on a second,” Clay held onto the second. “Do Raiden and Blade Wolf have Stands?”

“No,” Raiden said robotically.

“Negative,” Blade Wolf answered.

“Okay, so then how are they going to hel-“

“We don’t need Stands kid. We’ll kill people the old fashioned way.”

“With katanas and chainsaws,” Blade Wolf finished for his pal.

“Okay, I see how that could work on the normal yakuza folks and the kids from our school, but what about Stand users?” Clay questioned.

Raiden poked his own eyeball as if to dispense an answer. “For years Stand users have been completely untouchable to normal people like us.”

“Normal might not be the right word,” Tony cut in before Raiden could further explain.

And furtherly explain Riaden did, “But some out there are trying to find ways to solve that issue. As of right now, Blade Wolf and I still can’t directly fight a Stand user’s Stand, but thanks to our cybernetic enhancements we can at least see them.”

“Amazing!” Otacon amazed. “I’ve been looking into such research myself! But I’ve barely been able to make a prototype of such a thing! You must work with some real swell folks Raiden!”

“Uh huh,” Raiden uh’d the huh.

“Fellas!” Snake shouted with a slap upon the board of white. “We have planning to do!” Snake lit up a fresh nicotine stick and blew smoke at Tyler. “Alright kid you know the most about this building, how do you think we should approach this?”

Tyler spun around with fluffy hair and narrowed eyes. “Security will be tight. Real tight,” he said with a wink for some reason, and made everyone pretty uncomfortable. “Courtney will be having her private dinner up on the third floor, meanwhile, countless yakuza and Japanese culture club kids will be on the second and first floor, either guarding or having a goofy time.”

Snake stroked his chiseled chin with plans. “The yakuza will be too well trained, but those kids could make good recruits.”

Getting back to methods of planning, Tyler said, “I think simplicity is best. Snake and Clay should sneak in and try to kill Courtney without alerting everyone else. Raiden, Blade Wolf, and Tony can act as reinforcements if things go south. And Otacon and I will hang out in a flower van outside to offer you guys nerdy support.”

“I like the way you think new guy,” Otacon agreed, pushing his glasses so hard against his face he cut the bridge of his nose.

Snake placed his smoking cigarette atop Tyler’s head with agreement. “Agreed. We’ll go with that plan.”

“We’re going to need a flower van though,” Otacon said with excitement over owning such a roomy vehicle.

“And Clay’s going to need a blade,” Raiden said in an almost demanding way.

But Clay said, “Uh, no I don’t? I’ve got a beretta lying around here somewhere, and more importantly, I’ve got Hannah Baker.”

“I thought the young female was a corpse?” Blade Wolf voiced questioningly.

“No, not the real Hannah, I mean my Stand!”

“You named your Stand after a dead girl? Pretty weird kid,” Raiden said.

“And naming them after songs and bands isn’t!?” Clay questioned back musically.

Raiden sighed with edge, “Anyway, all I’m saying is we’re going to a place drenched with Japanese energy. You’re more than likely going to need a blade of some kind, so let’s go on a little field trip to get you one.”

Tony slapped his friend’s shoulder. “Come on Clay, I’ll come with you. And I mean, what’s the harm?”

“Alright then,” Snake alrighted then, “Why don’t you four go do that while Otacon, Tyler, and I steal a van.”

“Well I-“

But there was no use for words, Snake had already decided and was slithering out the broken front door. So Clay, the greaser, the robot wolf, and the edge all skadoodled on out of the house, leaving the head jocktrooper to fix the broken door. The four piled into Tony’s automobile, Blade Wolf of course stuck his head out the window out of instinct; his strong metallic head smashing into passing cars and sinking them like land Titanics.

Soon enough the Mother Base boys and their two new robo boys were walking the streets of the Asian themed area of Clay’s small American town which no one knew the name of.

“Seriously, how the fuck did I not know about this? Why is there so much Asian influence in this town?!” Clay asked with many oriental buildings surrounding him.

Tony combed his hair with slickness. “Right? I ask for one malt shop in town and I get turned down, but they’ll build all this shit?”

“Quit complaining, we’re almost there,” Raiden said as he continued to walk the boys and Blade Wolf on doggy leashes (which Clay thought was entirely unnecessary). They were soon upon a simple noodle shop, Raiden kicked in the front doors with force and business. “Hattori, I need your help!”

The old Asian gentleman behind the counter seemed surprised (but not too surprised). “Raiden, I told you not to come back here. And I told you not to fuck with the front door!”

Raiden leapt into the room with enhanced speed and legs. “I know, I know, but have you heard about this kid?” Raiden said, pointing at Clay.

Hattori the noodleman examined Clay with the eyes of a man who knew how to read fine print. “I see nothing but a virgin on a path for revenge.”

Clay was not too pleased to hear that assessment. “Seriously? That’s what you see?”

“Is he wrong though?” Tony said with a smile and eyebrows of taunt.

Raiden cut back in to explain. “The kid is a Stand user, and a strong one at that. And he’s out for revenge.”

“And you expect me to…what?” Hattori questioned with noodles.

“He has vermin to kill and he’s going to need some of your steel.”

“I’ve already broken my oath once, I cannot build this baby Stand user a sword!”

Raiden leapt onto the counter with edge. “He doesn’t need a sword, he needs a knife.”

“A knife?” Clay said the word again.

Blade Wolf, sitting upon his haunches next to Clay, explained, “Snake uses a combat knife. Raiden believes it would be optimal if you did as well.”

Hattori sighed, “He has vermin to kill huh? Like who?”

Raiden leaned on a nearby shady corner to exude edge. “Well for starters, Courtney Crimsen.”

Hattori’s eyes were filled with distant memories at the sound of that name falling out of Raiden’s mouth and into the shadows.

* * *

_Courtney, the new head of the local yakuza clan, strolled into Hattori’s brand new puppy orphanage, disappointed at seeing the legendary swordsmith reduced to such a pitiful existence._

_The old man sensed her subtle menacing aura, but he stayed hospitable. “Hello there young lady! Would you like to adopt a puppy? So many are in need of a good home!”_

_The young Asian samurai simply and curtly said, “No. I need one of your swords. The best one you can give me.”_

_“I’m sorry young lady, but I no longer make such tools. I’m a simple man now who simply wishes to find homes for abandoned pups,” Hattori explained, even as more of Courtney’s men strolled into the establishment._

_“I see. A pity.” Courtney the teenage samurai nodded to her men. “Start slaughtering the dogs.”_

_“What!? No! They’re innocent!” Hattori pleaded through the cries of beheaded puppies. “Please! Stop! I-I have one sword left!”_

_Courtney held up her hand to signal her brutish men to cease their killing. “One sword?”_

_“I-It…It was one of the last ones I crafted. I can’t say it’s my best work…But you won’t find one better anywhere else in this town.”_

_The young yakuza head crossed her arms and stared down the old timer. “Bring it. Now.”_

_Begrudgingly, Hattori went into his office and retrieved his hidden tool of death, returning as quickly as he could to make sure no more of the baby dogs in his care would be harmed. “Here…”_

_Courtney unsheathed the steel to examine it for a moment. Happy with what she saw she nodded to her men. “Thank you for your cooperation Hattori.” With her new katana in hand she swiftly made her exit. But not before telling her men, “Burn the place.”_

_What happened next would haunt the sword crafter for the rest of his days. How he desperately tried to stop the men pouring gasoline all over his orphanage. How they beat him senseless when he tried to save the puppies. And how the poor innocent creatures whined and cried as the flames burnt them alive._

* * *

Pulled out of his memories, Hattori now had a single tear running down his old wrinkled cheek. “You…You’re going to slaughter these vermin, right?”

“He-“ Raiden began.

“Let the boy answer,” Hattori said in order to silence Raiden.

Clay looked at the old timer with determination. “That’s the plan sir. And it will be done.”

Hattori turned away from the group, examining the sizeable framed picture hidden beneath the counter. The picture of countless types of young energetic puppies all eagerly awaiting to find a good home to belong to. “I will craft the boy a blade…Give me until the afternoon.”

“That soon?” Raiden questioned with craftsmanship.

“It’s not an entire sword so that’ll cut down some of the time. And besides, I’m feeling especially motivated to create this knife.” And with those somber, yet hopeful words, Hattori receded into the recesses of the noodle shop.

Tony casually strolled over to an empty chair, fell onto it smoothly, and then kicked his leatherbound feet up. “Guess we’ve gotta kill some time until afternoon. Who wants to go rearrange all the books at the department store and be general nuisances to the public?”

And nuisance they did, moving around many store products and bothering many people with actual shit to do. Clay didn’t care too much though; after all he’d have to confront a teenage samurai tomorrow night, which always meant the possibility of death grasping his ankles was imminent. After all their day was wasted the group returned to Hattori’s noodle emporium to see if the crafter of blades had crafted a blade.

The old man at the counter turned around upon hearing Raiden unnecessarily kicking in the front door again. He silently held up a small, yet sizeable, object wrapped within the finest Swedish silk. Clay stepped forth and unwrapped it together with the Asian gentleman. And there shining in the red afternoon light was Clay’s very own combat knife.

“Take it boy. Use it to slay the vermin that have infested this town.” That was all the noodle provider said before once more retreating into his inner sanctum to reflect on death and puppies.

Tony, uncaring and unknowing of Japanese somberness, said, “Sick knife Clay! So we’re good to head back to Mother Base now, yeah?”

Raiden nodded. “Yeah, I’m going to have to teach Clay how to properly use that thing.”

Clay was slightly uneager to be put through more rigorous lessons at the hands of an older gentleman in the art of inflicting/receiving pain. Regardless, they all once more got into Tony’s ride and went well over the speed limit as they returned to Mother Base. Out on the front lawn was a quaint lavender flower van that was being maintenanced by some of the jocktroopers, no doubt the plunder acquired by Snake and the two nerds.

Strolling into the home Tony announced, “We’re back! And we got Clay his knife!”

Posing on the kitchen counter, Snake nodded with sharp approval. Tyler stumbled out of the kitchen with bright clothing in hand.

“Clay! I stol- bought you a present while we were out! You know, to make up for the almost killing Tony thing.”

“Pfft, you wish you could kill me,” Tony smirked with sunglasses.

“What is it?” Clay asked the photography professional.

Tyler held up a black and yellow jumpsuit. Although I suppose it’d be more appropriate to call it a yellow and black jumpsuit.

“What the hell is that?” Clay asked for a second time.

“Thought you could use a neat new outfit to kill Courtney.”

“It’s a sneaking mission! Wearing bright yellow wouldn’t be smart! Right Snake?” Clay asked with words toward his mentor.

Snake, who had miraculously changed into his ocelot themed sneaking suit, was still posing on the counter. “Hmm. Usually I’d agree, but you could use the training.”

“Training?!”

Snake, now in a brick themed sneaking suit and covered in purple face paint, posed slickly again. “In order to be the perfect sneaky Stand user soldier, you need to be able to sneak around in any outfit.”

“Like the one you’re wearing right now?”

“No, that’d be ridiculous. But I want to see if you can pull it off. If you can’t sneak past some yakuza and children obsessed with Japanese culture, all while wearing bright yellow, then who can you sneak past?” Snake wisdomed backed up by his years of experience.

Clay sighed with a bit of annoyance as he grabbed the jumpsuit from Tyler. “Thanks Tyler…”

Raiden nudged Clay with his sharp edgy elbow. “Throw the suit on kid, and then meet me out back. I’m going to show you the way of the blade.”

Clay and his new cyborg substitute teacher went out back to train, which left the rest of the boys milling about.

Tony leaned with cool and question, “Soooo, we’ve got to kill time until tomorrow night. What’re we gonna do?”

Tyler grinned and whipped a box out of his pantaloons. “Monopoly anyone!?”

And so for the rest of the night and until the wee hours of the morn, Tony, Tyler, Otacon, Snake, and the robo pupper all played a rousing game of Monopoly. They barely paid attention to the occasional clang of steel on steel, followed by Clay crying out in pain.

* * *

Meanwhile

King Marcus looked upon his school, his mighty magnum opus, the castle that had not been successfully sieged by an enemy sports team in over 300 years. But he knew that kingdoms often didn’t fall to enemy nations, no, it was often the rats within that would destroy the kingdom. And so Marcus decided to preemptively fortify and improve his mighty school keep in order to prepare for the “rats”.

Still overlooking the construction from the courtyard, the Courtney approached from the side, dressed in what Marcus would call “pathetic eastern royal garbs”. (She was wearing a kimono, but Marcus’s mind still lived in a time when the land Courtney hailed form was called the mystic east).

“Courtney, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’m just here to inform you that I won’t be attending school tomorrow, or the day after. I’ll be attending a dinner with some of my more higher ranked members within my clan, and I suspect I’ll be getting wasted…or I’ll be burying bodies the next morning.”

Marcus could understand her conundrum, he too many a time wined and dined with his advisors and then buried the bodies of peasants the morn after. But this time he could not understand. “Courtney, is now really the time to be drinking sake-“

“SA-kay.”

“Huh?”

“You always pronounce it ‘sake’ when it’s pronounced sa-kay. You uncultured gaijin.”

“Whatever. But as I was saying, is now really the time to be out drinking amongst your subordinates?”

Courtney looked upon the king lesser than she already had. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of Clay and his grease monkey.”

“A king is never afraid, I’m simply preparing for the day he tries to knock the crown from my scalp. You’d do well to make sure he doesn’t knock your family cherry blossom into the dirt of death.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Courtney asked with equal disgust and confusion.

Marcus turned away from the foolish samurai saying, “The peasants often grow the most cabbages when the king’s tax collectors are away.”

Courtney rolled her eyes and left the young king to oversee his school’s construction while she went off to further prepare for tomorrow night’s night of drinking and revelry in the night. Part of her was actually hoping Clay and his friends would come. She longed for a real battle and bloodshed.

Little did the samurai and the king know that the slick Sheri had once more eavesdropped on an important conversation. Running like a cat on roller-skates, Sheri quickly left to inform her master so that they could scheme what to do next.

_To Be Continued --->_


	7. Showdown at the House of Blue Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clay and the boys set out to slay the next Metal Gear conspirator, and receive a startling piece of info from a feline.

The morning after Clay’s blade training and the boys Monopoly night was a subdued one. The head jock trooper was giving Clay a massage in order to get him fit as a fiddler’s fiddle in time for the late night yakuza attack later that night.

“How does that feel boss?” the head of the jocktroopers asked as he used his hands to ease the muscles of robot brought pain.

Clay sighed happily, “Feels good man. Thanks.”

“My pleasure sir!” the jocktrooper happily said.

“Not that I’m trying to be rude or anything,” Clay began with still closed eyes, “but whenever you massage my chest I feel like you keep getting dangerously close to my nipples.”

Head jocktrooper sweated nervously as his hands lowered away from the nips of Clay. “Haha… Well I’m not doing anything like that, must be your imagination!”

“Hmm? Yeah, I guess.”

But Clay couldn’t fully focus on his relaxing couch massage because just across the way near the front door was a three way argument.

“Raiden he’s a fucking robot piloted by an AI, you don’t need to take him on a walk!” Tony shouted with a point to the robotic pupper eagerly sitting by the door.

Raiden, leash in hand, disagreed, “Well Tony just because a man knows how to cook doesn’t mean he won’t get his battered house wife to do it.”

“First off, what? Second off, that was a fucked up analogy.”

“It means Blade Wolf likes it better when I personally take him on walks. Could you imagine a chauffeur driving your car?”

Tony rolled his eyes beneath his sunglasses. “Fair enough, do what you want.”

Like a raptor, Blade Wolf opened the front door and attached himself to the dog leash. “Come Raiden, it is time for walkies.”

With the two cyborgs gone, Clay replaced their presence by walking over and standing where they once stood. “Is now really the time to be taking Blade Wolf for a walk? I mean I know it’s still hours away but…”

Surprisingly, Snake combat rolled into the entryway and answered in place of Tony, “No, it’s a smart tactical decision. Blade Wolf gets grumpy without his walks and would therefore hamper us in a combat scenario.”

“If you say so,” Tony said the so.

“I do,” Snake said so, “now both of you get in the kitchen so we can go over our strategy again. Raiden and Blade Wolf already listened to it while you were busy fixing your damn hair,” Snake said with biting words toward Tony, “and while you were getting felt up by our staff,” the soldier finished whilst looking at Clay. With no more words the gruff man walked into the kitchen.

Tony followed behind grumbling, “My hair is a work of art! You can’t rush perfection.”

Clay just followed them in confusion.

Tyler and Snake stood in front of the now meticulously organized whiteboard of information related to the death of a certain highschool girl. Although Clay and Tony weren’t too off put by the meticulousness of the board because in all honesty it wasn’t _too _meticulous; this was likely because Tyler was still a teenager at heart. Tyler stood beside it like a teacher’s aide while Snake smoked like a French professor. Opposite them was Clay sitting like a good soldier in a chair while Tony leaned coolly against the counter chewing on a bacon flavored toothpick.

“Alright boys listen up. Tyler, Otacon, and I went over the building’s structure and have decided how we’ll exactly approach this. Clay, you and I will sneak around to the back of the building and enter in through a ventilation shaft. Blade Wolf will also enter through a larger one close by and stalk through the building like some sort of robotic predator from Japanese mythology.”

Clay mostly understood what Snake had explained so the boy nodded.

“And where do Raiden and I fit into this equation?” Tony asked, motioning toward the odd equation Tyler had wrote on the board depicting the faces of the team.

Snake quickly drew a little cigarette in his caricature’s mouth before answering, “I need you and Raiden on standby outside the front entrance. If we need you for a distraction or for reinforcements, that’s the best place for the both of you.”

Tony shrugged with his leather wrapped shoulders. “Well I can’t argue with that,” Tony said with simple greaser tactics.

“Glad you agree,” said Snake.

“Hey, Snake,” Clay said, raising his hand that was no doubt filled with a question for the older gentleman.

“What?”

“Why don’t we take the jocktroopers with us? I noticed that you sometimes go out to abduct-“

“Recruit!”

“ ‘Recruit’, more whenever you have some free time. And by now we’ve got a good couple dozen.”

“Getting kinda crowed around here to be honest,” Tony stated while using one of the jocktroops as a footrest.

“Right,” Clay righted, “so I’ve gotta ask. Why aren’t we taking them with us to storm this building?”

Snake scoffed, “Have you learned nothing Clay? And here I thought you had an underlying talent for leading PMC youths into battle.”

“I literally joined this group like a week ago…”

Snake continued, “These young fresh jocks have the gumption and the guts to do gun battle with nerds and enemy sports teams. But they’d be slightly outclassed by yakuza members. No, our sneaking assassination mission is the better option. Who knows when we’ll be in a pinch and really need a small private army?”

“Eh, could be soon,” Tyler suggested.

“What?” Tony asked with upset leather.

“I mean, it’s clear Marcus wants you guys dead. If he wanted to he could rally the entire school into an army to kill you. Remember back in freshman year when he first ascended to the throne? One of the local private schools tried to capture our school during that time, so Marcus conscripted every student from every grade to fight against them.”

“Tsk, yeah I remember. Had to keep playing hooky for days on end in order to avoid getting drafted,” Tony spat.

Clay too remembered. He had to hide in Tony’s car and eat Pringles many times to avoid being taken by Marcus’s knights and forced to fight on the front lines (which was just the lawn and road in front of the school).

Snake nodded. “Right. No doubt we’ll need extra hands on deck when the time comes to bring down this dark king.”

Tony sighed, “I really hope you were referring to his morality and not his race when you said that.”

Suddenly, but not too unexpectedly, Otacon turned away from the board to ask, “Oh, by the way Clay, how’d your blade training go last night?”

“How do you think?! I needed head jocktrooper to lock my shoulder back into place and massage away the pain.”

“How does that work?” Tony questioned, “You were fighting with swords.”

“Yeah but Raiden just beat me with the blunt end of his.”

Otacon tipped his glasses, causing them to snap in half, and so he put on a fresh pair before carrying on with, “Yes, but did you learn anything?”

“Well…I mean I guess?”

“Could you defeat an Asian girl?” Snake asked through cigarette smoke.

“Yeah….Maybe? I don’t know, I’m not that good yet. But for a night of getting beaten in the backyard, I surprisingly feel like I know a lot more about swordplay.”

“Which raises further questions considering you used a knife and not a sword,” Tyler pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter as long as he can beat the enemy,” Snake wisdomed with fighting fights.

It was at this point Clay had randomly decided to reflect on the nature of his actions. His motives for murder, or rather, dispensing justice (really depends on how you look at it) were to avenge his main squeeze Hannah Baker. But whenever his old classmates were referred to as enemies, Clay couldn’t help but feel a slight oddness, one he thought he had already overcome. But in truth, killing the people he once did algebra quizzes with was bizarre; no matter how many illegal firearms they owned.

But then again they were also Stand using sociopaths/psychopaths who killed Hannah, so he didn’t feel too bad. And yet the boy still felt that deep down maybe he could redeem them. Well some of them anyway. It worked with Tyler after all. But Courtney was responsible for dozens of needless deaths. No redemption for her.

Like a wife nearly murdered on her wedding day, Clay would take revenge and kill Courtney for depriving him of Hannah’s totally valuable friendship.

After sitting in silence and smoke for nearly eleven and a half minutes, there was a knock at the door! Snake knew it couldn’t be Raiden, he’d never knock, and Blade Wolf had a perfectly good doggy door to use. With leadership, Snake motioned for an eyeful report from one of the jocktroopers.

The youth peeked out a window to report, “It’s some old dude smoking a doobie?”

Clay instantly knew, “Dad!?”

Clay, Snake, and the Tonester made tracks to the front door to greet the father of Clay. Snake grumbled, “This is odd, your father should’ve been shot on sight. No doubt the jocks would mistake him for a witness of Jehovah.”

Without noticing his presence beforehand, the head jocktrooper leaned in to clarify, “I told the guys not to shoot because it’s Clay’s dad!”

“How’d _you_ know it was my dad though?” Clay asked.

“Oh…well you know I saw a resemblance! I-I haven’t been stalking you and your family in order to get to know you better…That’d be weird! And totally gay bro! Ha…ha…”

“Your presence is discomforting,” Snake said, shoving away the young soldier and then opening the front door to greet Mr. Jensen.

“Howdy ho sport!”

“What are you doing here dad!? Did mom ask you to bring me home?” Clay asked with wonder and nervous.

“Wha-Oh! Ha, no, your mom hasn’t even brought you up once! You know how busy she is after all.”

“Oh…”

“So why are you here Mr. Jensen?” Tony asked greasily.

Mr. Jensen took another hit of his doobie like a teen with disposable income. “I just dropped by to give Clay his birthday present!”

“It’s not my birthday dad…”

“I know that, but I missed it last year, remember? When the Russian mob were trying to burn one of my farms and free the child slaves. Fuckers…”

“Yeah dad, I remember,” Clay remembered with Russian death threats.

“Heh, yeah well I finally made up for it! My insurance fraud money finally came through! That in addition to my booming business, I had enough extra cash to buy you this!” Clay’s father hyped up with a step aside reveal to draw attention to the shiny new motorcycle out upon the front lawn.

“Why is it pink?” Tony asked with vehicles.

“Because that’s Clay’s favorite color!”

“No it’s not…” Clay admitted. “Still, thanks anyway dad.”

The old man ruffled his teenage son’s hair. “No problem sport! Now you take the keys and go commit some DUI, just like your old man did when he was a young farmhand! Where every day was filled with the threat of rival drug gangs and the crooked local cops! Toodles champ!” And just like that, the middle aged man ran off; his weed and whatever other illegal substance he took kicking in at the same time.

Tony leaned on the doorway and stroked his chin with thoughts of fatherhood. “You don’t seem too happy about the vehicle Clay. What, sad you won’t have a good excuse to mooch off my ride anymore?”

“Well the new motorcycle is cool, even though it’s pink, but… I mean it’s a machine bought and powered by my dad’s local drug empire.”

Snake lit up a new ciggy. “Yes, and we fund and run this place with food stamps and stolen child sports teams. Sometimes we need to accept gifts from dirty places in order to put them to good use.”

Clay shrugged. “I guess you’ve got a point.”

Tony slugged his friend so hard on the shoulder he toppled over and fell face first onto the lawn. “Come on you Pepsi virgin, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

The head jocktrooper reappeared in the entryway full of misguided worry, “Ride what!?!?”

And so the day carried on with relative ease and learning. Raiden and Blade Wolf happened by Clay and Tony’s wild motorcycle lesson while on their way home from a relaxing hound walk. After learning the basics of gas powered bike riding, Clay donned his yellow and black jumpsuit from last night and used it to further his riding skills. Seeing his pal being able to handle such horsepower brought a tear to the greaser’s eye; meanwhile the ever judging eyes of the head jocktrooper kept an eye on Tony.

It was nearing the time of operations in the afternoon by the time Clay finally ceased his riding. The boy known as Clay had the front yard jocktroopers refill his new metallic pony before he headed inside to meet with his comrades.

Tony wrapped a bro arm around Clay’s neck as soon as the boy walked into the kitchen. “Back finally! If you keep riding that damn thing I’ll need to turn you into a full blown greaser!” Then the dark skinned lad shoved Clay to the floor. “But then you’d be stealing my shtick, and that ain’t cool.”

“Quit screwing around you two,” Snake ordered, helping Otacon grab his purse, “get in your respective vehicles and get ready to go.”

Blade Wolf’s tail wagged quickly. “I want to sit in the front passenger seat.”

Snake patted Blade Wolf on the noggin in a manly manner. “Fine by me. I’m not some sort of miscreant who’ll endanger friendships over seat choices. Unless of course we’re in a crowded movie theater or on public transportation.”

With that settled the boys rolled out through front door accompanied to the many salutes of the jocktroopers. Tyler, Otacon, and Raiden piled into the van, accompanied by two jocktroopers for driving purposes. Tony got into the driving command seat of his car while Blade Wolf got into the shotgun seat; Snake, of course, slithered into the backseat for optimal storage space. Lastly, Clay did slick pose as he got on his new gas powered bicycle.

Nothing could stop the boys now; they had put the peddler sticks to the metal floor in order to achieve maximum speeds. Tony and Clay had a friendly race to see who’d get to china town district faster, and Clay would’ve won, but he was far too busy pondering why a Japanese yakuza was hanging out in Chinatown. Slickly he parked his bike inconspicuously in a nearby tree, meanwhile Tony his hotrod in an abandoned Coke delivery truck. Otacon and company didn’t need to hide the van since it was a van.

Splitting up, Clay, Snake, and Blade Wolf made their way on foot to the back of the large establishment a few feet in front of them. The House of Blue Leaves. Within the walls crafted of rice and pig iron, the boys could hear much revelry already commencing amongst the Japanese inspired youths and actual Japanese guys.

Snake stared up at an old rusty bamboo vent located on the dingy back of the building. “Alright Blade Wolf that’ll be your entrance. Clay and I will go through those two vents,” Snake said with a point to two conveniently shaped human outline vents at ground level.

“Affirmative,” Blade Wolf affirmed, quickly clawing his way up the wall and into the vent as if he were a mountain cat and not a forest hound.

By the time Clay took his eyes off the mechanical beast, Snake was already shoving his chiseled body through the vent. “Come on Clay! Don’t keep me waiting.”

And keep him waiting Clay did not. After having Hannah Baker use her muscly ghost hands to remove the vent cover like a helpful big sister, Clay shoved his body through. After moments of squirming and slithering, the two Stand using sneak soldiers pop out the other side and into an empty supply closet.

Inner beeping alerted the duo that Otacon was giving them a codec ring, “Snake, Clay! Did you two make it inside?”

“Yeah Otacon, we’re in,” Snake answered the code call with gravel.

The wolf of blade cut in with a call of his own, “Snake, Clay, I am deep within the enemies ventilation system, it smells of chicken and rice. I will remain on standby mode until given new orders.”

“Good boy,” Snake praised. “Alright Clay, follow behind me. As long as we stay out of the enemies’ line of sight we should be okay.”

“You sure? We kinda stand out; I don’t think they’ll have a hard time spotting us.”

“Trust me; I have a keen sense for whether or not a hired gunman can see me using his triangular vision. One of the skills you develop after years of sneaking around military types.”

“I see…?” Clay saw, but not really.

“Look as long as you’re with me my sneaking skill will rub off on you. It’s like a character bonus a companion gives you in an RPG game,” Snake explained with games and gravel.

“Huh, wasn’t expecting someone like you to make that kind of analogy?”

Snake rolled his eyes. “Well I’ve hung around Otacon enough to pick up on these sorts of things. Now shut it and let’s get to sneaking and sliding,” Snake said as he crouched down real low and slinked out the closet doorway.

And sneak and slide they did. Snake, using his superior serpentine eyesight, plotted out a path for them to sneak along in order to gain access to the stairs leading to the reserved second floor. The first floor was filled with almost nothing but the kids from the Japanese culture club, so they weren’t too hard to slip and slide past.

Doing a cooperative crabwalk with Snake, he and Clay arrived at the landing of the more reserved second floor. Rather than being an open bar/ restaurant type deal, the square balcony-like nature of the second floor was surrounded by plenty of private rooms with old timey sliding doors. Moving along the walls like snakes pretending to be worms, the two lads could hear many a yakuza enjoying rice and liquefied rice.

Meanwhile, the Tonester and Raiden sat in an inconspicuous cherry blossom tree out front, keeping an eye on the entrance of no entering for non Japanese enthusiasts.

Raiden took a drag of his eastern tobacco pipe and blew smoke out of his robotic teeth. “I know we all agreed to this plan, but my sword longs to drink the blood of those amateurs,” he said with a disdainful look to the clearly evil yakuza members guarding the door with katanas.

Tony, perched on his own branch next to the cyborg sword wielder, whisper yelled, “First of all, why are you smoking? I’m not even a soldier and I know that your smoke could give away our position. Second of all, why are you smoking!? I’ve never even seen you smoke anything before!”

Raiden twirled his pipe using his dexterous robo fingers. “Picked it up off a bum when we were looking for a hiding place. And I’m just doing it to pass time; thanks to my super powered ventilated robot lungs I don’t have to worry about most smoking based items causing internal damage.”

Tony locked his hands behind his head and asked, “What are you even smoking?”

Raiden took another hit and shrugged, “Hell if I know.”

Meanwhile up on the third floor, within the swellest fancy private dinner room, Courtney and her closest subordinates drank clear liquid and dined on dead sea creatures. But the young swordswoman removed the dinner platter filled with liquid away from her lips as she narrowed her eyes even more than they already are.

“I sense…a canine,” she whispered through her men’s laughter and fun. Standing tall in her white Asian silks, Courtney drew her finely crafted blade and slowly paced through the room and out the door. Now on the overlooking balcony like section her eyes flicked upwards to the ceiling. She then used a single slash to rip through the ceiling material and into the vents above, dropping down a large metal hound as if he were a surprise piñata.

The blade using wolf shook off the debris like a husky and stared down the girl before him. His wagging tail latched onto his trusty chainsaw before continuing to sway idly. “You discovered my location, how?”

The two began to circle each other; Courtney’s nearby lackeys only now beginning to realize something was up. Or rather, down. It was Blade Wolf. Because he was now not in the vents. Which meant he was down. Anyway, “I could sense your presence,” Courtney answered her foe.

Continuing to pace like a stalking mountain lion, Blade Wolf said, “But I am a machine? You must be quite skilled.”

“Well that and I have a keen sense for mangy mutts like you,” Courtney explained, finally readying her sword stance as the nearby men slowly came strolling up with their weapons in hand.

Revving up his chained blade, Wolf used the codec to inform, “Snake, Clay, I have encountered the enemy on the third floor. I have no choice but to engage.”

Sprouting out from the potted plant they had been hiding in down on floor two, Snake highly graveled, “What!? Clay, we gotta move!”

“Hey!” a manly Asian voice shouted. Turning their noggins revealed it to belong to one of many yakuza boys. The two groups stared for a moment before the man leaned over the railing, shouting over the tunes, “We’ve got a couple of gaijins in the house! Kill ‘em!”

Now both floor two and one was alerted to the presence of the lads. “Snake…” Clay named nervously.

“Relax, this is why we have a greaser and a cyborg,” Snake explained with codec. “Tony, Raiden! We need back up for the first floor!”

Outside, the greaser by the name of Tony fell from the tree; Raiden landed with a singular graceful foot next to him. Sitting up the leather fiend answered, “Got it! Come on Raiden!”

Raiden unsheathed his katana with jack and rip. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Before the middle aged gents at the door could speak in Japanese denials, Raiden used surprise and his robot legs to swiftly separate the door guards’ torsos from their hip bones. And then, politely, he allowed Tony to do what he did best; kick down the front door with grease and street tough. Raiden strolled in with his blade stanced and his feet edged, while Tony pocketed his hands for extra cool. Taking a look around the more open bar/restaurant area, the two saw numerous Japanese culture club kids along with the occasional genuine Japan man.

Even though he knew they couldn’t see it, Tony summoned The Fonz and cracked his knuckles louder than unauthentic Vietnamese music playing on the jukebox. “Alright fuckers, surrender and we might not kick your asses!”

“Or kill you,” Raiden added with his eye of edge.

“Yeah, that too.”

But of course these youths were too infatuated with the idea of Japanese brim and bravado, and thus they all took up arms to do battle with the borg and the leather. Raiden's calves launched him forward to slip and slash through many a child, but occasionally had to engage in real combat with those wielding katanas (because by the laws of anime Raiden’s blade, no matter how technologically superior, must properly fight against a fellow sword). Tony meanwhile simply kept most enemies at bay using The Fonz’s spiky ice of spikeatude, activating his fists of classic punching when necessary to fend of the milk skinned Japanese appreciator’s who got too close for leathery comfort.

Up above, Snake and Clay were back-to-back using the power of CQC to quell the tide of unruly Japanese yakuza men. With a moment of breathing room, Clay used Hannah Baker in order to punch and shatter ribcages, causing the middle aged Asians to back up in hesitation. Even the ones that had access to firearms were useless against Snake’s mighty Snake Eater. Of course, Clay being the baby boy that he is, still needed Snake to cover him in both CQC and lending him Snake Eater’s quick jaws in order to avoid the occasional stray bullets.

And then, yet another floor up above, Blade Wolf was crouched low like a cornered person acting like a cornered animal. Courtney’s personal goons were all quite skilled with sharp objects such as katanas, knives, and pitchforks. Each one of the sharp object users did their best to slay the metallic creature from sci-fi Hell, but Blade Wolf grew up in sci-fi Hell, so the hound of metal easily pounced around and used his speedy chainsaw to rip and tear his foes apart.

An especially tall meaty bald yakuza man with a polar bear tattoo on his back sauntered up to the bladed wolf, unimpressed. Ready to die for the gang, he simply held up his hands to block Blade Wolf’s incoming chainsaw. The action defied Blade Wolf’s computer algorithm understanding, but began to process understanding once he noticed his hands were so thick that the chainsaw had not cut through in one fell cut. As such, the meaty boy latched his now mangled hands tightly around Blade Wolf’s tail and proceeded to haul the creature over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and slammed the hound of metal onto the wooden floor.

Too heavy for the old floor of wooden, Blade Wolf crashed through the floorboards twice times before landing on some children down on floor one. Much to the joy of Raiden, “Wolf, glad to see you’re alright.”

Getting to his feet, chopping an incoming child’s collarbone open, and then doing that shaking thing dog’s do once they get out of water, Blade Wolf said, “Agreed. That sword wielding youth is no laughing matter.”

Locking blades with a retired yakuza meat butcher, Raiden replied, “Well then we’ll need to finish up down here quick or hope Clay and Snake have it handled.”

Blade Wolf looked up above with free will, seeing his companions in battle on floor two. “New objective. Alleviate Snake and Clay of the middle aged men so that they may do battle with the primary target.” With orders ordered by himself, Blade Wolf shot like a mighty dog themed torpedo up the stairs.

Snake and Clay had inched closer and closer to the stairs leading to the third floor, all the while doing continuous CQC, Stand, and knife play battle with the Asian adversaries. Such a task would’ve been easy for Snake; however, the sheer number of enemies in addition to keeping an eye on Clay meant he was just as slogged down as his student. Things seemed to only get worse when Courtney’s personal bitch boys made their way down to floor two to provide backup.

Thankfully, up the other set of stairs came bounding a very good boy. Blade Wolf twirled like a chainsaw wielding ballerina, spraying blood and lengthy intestines all over the once quaint Japanese establishment. “I’ve cut a path for you my comrades. Push toward the objective. I shall remain here and wag my tail.”

Snake gave little more than a nod before moving on using his slithering feet, but Clay stopped to say, “Thanks Blade Wolf,” before pushing forward as well. Now at the top floor’s landing, before he rounded the corner, Snake leaned against the wall and pulled out a contraption. It seemed to a tranquilizer gun. “Why haven’t you been using that?” Clay questioned.

Snake rolled his eyes and scoffed with silly amateur questions, “Because we were in a big brawl before, not to mention the darts take about thirty seconds to take effect.” Snake slid his head like a reptile around the corner once more. “I’ll use it to quickly dispatch the last of her guards; I’ll need you to take out the big guy with bloodied hands.”

“Why? Just shoot him to.”

Snake took out a handy dandy ruler and then smacked Clay on the noggin with lessons. “Clay you corn snake. Do you really think I could subdue that man of meat with just one shot? No, it’s far more efficient to take down all the small ones while you cut up the thick man with your mighty knife CQC combo.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Clay responded like a baby bird that was in the process of tumbling out of the nest and needed to flap its wings in order to avoid brain damage.

With no more words of pre-prep, Snake combat rolled out into the open and began taking his shots. Clay ran out normally because he just wasn’t confident enough yet that he could roll properly without hurting his neck. But once the boy was out in the open he engaged in combat with the large man with the polar bear tattoo stomping toward him. Clay understood Hannah Baker’s fists wouldn’t stop the man of much meat before he got close enough to Clay to give him a meaty right hook. So without the use of his Stand, Clay whipped out his newly forged combat knife and engaged in CQC knife play; a combination of lessons taught by both Snake and Raiden.

The Clayboy was used to having to avoid large handed punches from bigger boys, his school days made sure of that, so it was easy to outmaneuver the first swings dealt by the man. Using CQC to shatter the man’s ankles, and then dodging more powerful swinging and thrashing, Clay then CQC punched his spine into submission. All that was left after that was delivering an honorable eastern execution by stabbing his blade into the side of his skull. When all was said and done, all of Courtney’s personal subordinates were either taking naps or dirt naps.

The young yakuza head just stood a few distances away not showing her anger toward her useless henchgoons. “Bravo Clay, it seems the spring chicken is starting to mature into the winter fox.”

“What the fuck does that even mean? No, more importantly, I want to know why!” Clay shouted with a point of his trusty knife. Snake, now emptying his empty tranq gun, stood beside his pupil.

“Hmph, why what?” the girl asked back.

“Why’d you kill Hannah!? And why are you and the others building a Metal Gear!?”

Courtney clicked her tongue, “Hannah had many chances to befriend many of us, but she continued to be a nuisance. The fact that she was anti-Metal Gear didn’t help matters. As far as why we’re helping the production of a new Metal Gear? Well we all have our reasons. Bryce and Marcus are in it for power, some are in it just for their own survival, and me…I guess you can say it’s a mix of both?”

“You bitch! How could you be so cruel to Hannah!?”

Courtney’s eyebrows were full of confusion. “Did you literally not listen to a word I said? We’re doing this for our own survival, most of us anyway. And you know what, in hindsight, Hannah was a real bitch. She was confusing, rude, and a really unnecessary person.”

“Said the girl who literally murdered her parents in a hostile yakuza takeover!” Clay shot back.

Courtney made more disdainful noises with her mouth. “I’m not making excuses for myself Clay, I’m just saying don’t pretend like you’re avenging some saint or something. You’re just upset because one of your only two friends died. If you’re going to try and kill me at least do it exclusively because of the whole Metal Gear thing.”

“Try? No, I WILL be killing you tonight!” Clay yelled with sword fight.

“Try it you fucking gaijin,” Courtney coldly spat before making a break for the last set of steps leading up to the rooftop.

Before either boy could set foot forth, Blade Wolf barked over the codec, “Clay, Snake, more hostiles are converging on your position. I’m doing my best to hold them back, but my blade is sustaining moderate damage and some are slipping through.”

Snake spat out his battle cigarette and turned toward their rear. “Afraid you’ll have to handle this one on your own Clay. I’ll stay behind here and keep anyone else from interfering.”

“Are you sure I can handle this alone Snake?”

“When will you stop with the stupid questions kid? You’ve got your Stand, and you’ve got your anime sword skills now. So go up there and have yourself a classic Japanese showdown.”

Hesitantly, Clay readied his blade, nodded, and then ran up the stairs after Courtney. Up the steps led Clay to the rooftop of the establishment; an ornate Japanese garden filled with plant life exposed to the cool tranquil night air. The teenage samurai clad in her white eastern silk stood near a blooming cherry blossom tree currently devouring the nutrients from the foreign dirt resting on the rooftop. She looked at Clay before slowly drawing her blade, the conveniently full moon shining down to light their battle arena.

Sword in one hand and sheath in the other, Courtney circled the approaching Clay, whom had also drawn his blade. “Do you seriously expect to defeat me with such a pathetic Stand, Clay? And an even more pathetic weapon?”

Clay readied his knife. “Pathetic? This is Hattori Hanzo steel! And…according to Raiden that’s…pretty good?” Clay informed, knowing swordplay but not knowing steel history. Like a guy who knows the rules of football and can enjoy watching a game with his slightly alcoholic uncle, but can’t enjoy banter with him since he doesn’t follow the going and coming seasons, and can’t even remember all the teams.

“Hanzo steel? Really?” She seemed to laugh to herself, “Looks like when I’m done with you I’ll have to teach that bastard a lesson.” After that passing thought she returned her sharp eyes to her American opponent. “Even if our blades are equal, my Stand will outmaneuver yours, you simple white boy.”

Courtney’s twisted white and dark pink aura menaced as her Stand appeared behind her. Despite Courtney’s frame as a young hip school girl who happened to be a crime boss, her Stand was that of a large ghostly samurai general clad in black and pink armor. The pointy horned helm, the images of disfigured and decaying sakura petals, and the two shining ghostly dark pink eyes behind a demonic mask would make any rice farmer kneel in fear.

The phantom crossed its armored arms and took its place square behind Courtney, looming over her so that it could stare down the pathetic American before them. “This is the Stand that has helped me dispatch many would-be usurpers and swordsmen. **Season of the Samurai**!”

Clay no longer cared for words, only stabbings! Using Raiden’s teachings that were still stored in his muscle memory banks, Clay ran forward with his knife at the ready. Courtney hopped back a bit, slicing at the cold dirt beneath her feet. Of course Clay was confused by this and couldn’t foresee what was coming, because he acted rashly as if he too were a cybernetic man (which he was not) and did not wait to see what tricks Courtney had up her Stand’s sleeves.

Incredibly large and twisted cherry blossom tree roots sprang forth from the ground, surging toward Clay like unkind snakes looking to sink their fangs into an unsuspecting farm boy. Stepping back cautiously he used Hannah Baker to bash back the thicker roots while he himself used Raiden’s good old slashing technique. But while Hannah was able to somewhat fend back the fang like roots, Clay’s knife only clashed with them, like housewife knife against housewife knife. This led to a few sharpened roots tearing and cutting into Clay’s slick new jumpsuit, as well as his caucasian flesh. In addition, he looked down to see a few noticeable cuts on his hands where Hannah Baker had punched back the roots.

The roots stopped, but Clay staggered back in pain and cut hip bones. Clay did an anime grunt of pain, just as Raiden had taught him, and readjusted his fighting stance. “Nice Stand, mind telling me its abilities and weaknesses in excruciating detail?”

“Nope,” Courtney answered, twirling her blade coolly as she set one foot in front of the other in order to go forward. “Did you really think you could just watch some poorly dubbed anime, buy an Asian blade, and then waltz in here and kill me?”

“I didn’t come here to do the waltz! I came here to tango! With my Stand!” Clay shouted.

“What?”

“I don’t know, I’m still new to all of this! But in the grand scheme of things I guess it really doesn’t matter what embarrassing shit I say because you’ll be dead soon. Huh, I guess that’s why most villains end up monologuing because they end up getting a sort of satisfaction confessing all the things they’ve kept inside without having to worry if the person listening will tell others,” Clay observed.

“….What?”

And then like a cat that was as fast as lightening (which would be a bit frightening) Clay lunged forward with CQC quickness and Hannah Baker’s fists at the ready. “Ha! In addition to Raiden’s lessons I also picked up a trick from Tony!” The ghostly Hannah managed to get a handful of good punches in before the teenage samurai used her sword and nimble feet in order to gain a distance of safety. “It’s called, say random bullshit to distract the enemy in order to get off a free hit!”

Courtney spat out a broken tooth, wiping the side of her mouth stoically before responding, “Hmph, you certainly have been taught by an anime enthusiast as well as that leather fucking grease monkey called Tony. But while you were out getting cucked, I was studying the blade!”

Courtney bursted forward and jumped into the air, using her extremely precise katana skills to cut and slash numerous falling cherry blossom petals. All the cut petals swirled and sped through the air toward Clay once Courtney had pointed her trusty katana at her target. Clay’s intense Snake training made his reflexes quick enough to use Hannah Baker to block most of the damage, but many of the petals swirling through the air like pissed off wasps cut up Clay’s arms and legs.

Falling to a singular knee of support, the Clay could only think of others not named Clay. _“Damn…if Tony were up here he could freeze her plant shit. Or Raiden could match her in blade expertise…Snake could even….No! I’ve gotta stop thinking about this shit!” _The virgin Stand user got back up in time to Hannah and Bake away another smattering of steel-like tree roots sprouting out of the ground at him. _“Tony, Snake, Raiden, and the others are my teammates! I’m me! I can’t rely on them to solve all my problems!” _With Stand and knife ready once more Clay screamed like a child, “But I can use what they’ve taught me!”

Courtney raised a brow and then understood. “Hmph, monologuing during combat to boost your odds of winning? Some would see that as poor sportsmanship, but I welcome the tactic originating from my home country!”

Back downstairs, Tony and Raiden’s battle was going arguably better than the upper boys; although that was probably due to the fact that most of their enemies were literally children whom have never actually used a sword to kill in their lives. Not to mention they couldn’t see the invisible greaser TV icon impaling them with large shards of ice.

Tony continued to beat the teeth out of a young man he was brawling whilst demanding, “Give up and let me strap a fulton pack on you! Become a jocktrooper and-“ Tony paused, “actually…if we do recruit these guys what would we even call them? I guess they’d still be Japanese enthusiast so we wouldn’t arm them with guns anyway…”

Whilst his grease assailant was speaking aloud, the Japanese culture club kid tried to struggle more and was quickly pummeled to death by the slick knuckles of The Fonz. Raiden watched on and shook his head. “Tony, if you want to recruit these guys you need to do so properly,” Raiden explained, surrounded by three surrendered Japanese enthusiasts whom had laid down their swords and prepared tea for the more talented swordsman.

“Pfft, what? Are you saying they’d rather die than be beaten up by a greaser?”

Raiden, now with seven more land of the rising sun enthusiasts, took their relinquished katanas and answered, “Yes. But don’t worry,” Raiden began before pulling out a sleek black kimono, “put this on and I think they’ll be more inclined to take the beating and then join us.”

“Tsk,” Tony mouthed, not accepting the gift and then retightening his gleaming leather jacket, “don’t think so man. We’re almost done down here anyway.”

“Yeah, we are,” Raiden agreed, now sitting like a dojo master amongst many surrendered samurai highschoolers. “I just wonder how Clay is fairing. I hope he can remember the way of the blade along with his other fighting abilities.”

Up on the rooftop of the eastern themed establishment, Clay and Courtney, now both filled with overwhelming desire to defeat the other in the way of the blade, darted around the garden like two bees vying for the assault of a flower. When Courtney couldn’t close the distance with her sword, she’d slash at the dirt or nearby flora and send out razor sharp plant life. And even when Clay got Hannah Baker close enough for good old American punches, Season of the Samurai’s defensive arm blocks proved surprisingly effective.

Courtney took a breath as she expelled words, “Give it up Clay! You can’t beat me in swordsmanship, and you can’t beat my Stand in this environment!”

_“She hasn’t monologued yet, but Season of the Samurai’s ability must somehow control plant life and can turn it sharp and hard as steel,”_ Clay thought with cutting battle thoughts. _“How though? The Stand itself has just been floating there…menacingly!” _Clay continued to ponder while gazing at the ominous samurai Stand producing menacing symbols.

And that’s when it hit him like his drunken mother after losing a big court case. “Ah ha!” Clay ah’d the ha, “her Stand’s ability must only activate using her sword! That’s why she’s always used it to slash at stuff!” Clay reasoned with a shaky theory.

In that time of outloud thoughts though, Courtney did a summersault in the air and locked blades with Clay. “Think that’ll help Clay? You still need to get my sword away from me, which isn’t happening!” the Asian woman shouted as she slammed her Hanzo steel against his own.

“You fool!” Clay smirked like a school boy fighting the girl’s dodge ball team. “You got so caught up in eastern swordplay, you forgot about Hannah Baker’s range!”

With Japanese shock, Courtney tried to use Season of the Samurai to block the hands of the phantom Hannah, but the muscular lady's superior speed was used to shove the samurai’s wrists away like a game of keep away. She then used one of her meaty ghost hands to smash into Courtney’s nimble sword handling hand.

But Courtney barely cried in pain as all of the bones in her right hand shattered against the mighty hilt of her blade, which then went flying.

Although it went against his usual warrior code as a Stand user, Clay moved into action for a new finisher. Hannah Baker used her strength to keep Season of the Samurai restrained whilst he scooted forward to close the distance between himself and Courtney, his Hattori Hanzo knife at the ready.

The teenage samurai finally displayed clear worry as she looked into the determined eyes of the knife wielding boy. “Normally I’d have Hannah Baker finish you off. But Hattori went through the trouble to craft me this knife to kill vermin like you!” Clay shouted with vengeance for sad old men. Taking a chance to use a skill Raiden barely touched upon during the night lessons, Clay used his inner edge to channel it into his knife and proceeded to cut and slash line after line of death across Courtney, slicing her into dozens of pieces.

By the time the girl’s kimono was stained a deep red and her body was scattered into meat chunks on the ground, Clay had already sheathed his knife and sent away his Stand. “Sayonara, Courtney Crimsen,” Clay said like a character out of a western samurai movie, all while doing a subdued yet memeable pose.

“Wow, not bad Clay,” a voice voiced.

The boy spun around to the stairs to see it was Raiden and Snake. “Raiden, Snake!” Clay named.

“Your blade skills are still absolutely fucking amateurish, but your protagonist power and Stand power give you the edge you need,” Raiden said with a sensei like nod.

Snake crossed his blood soaked arms and lit up an after battle cigar. “Hmph, fighting kids your age with still relatively basic grasps on their own Stand power certainly makes things easy for you.” Snake gave a tiny smile though. “But again, you’re a real diamond in the rough kid. If you can master all these combat techniques you’ll be an unstoppable soldier.”

Clay blushed and kicked a stray bonsai tree. “Aw shucks, thanks guys. Uh by the way, where’s Tony and Blade Wolf?”

“Downstairs helping Otacon and Tyler get our new recruits ready,” Snake explained with cigarette and stairs. “Our enemies can’t ignore us as a major threat much longer. We’ll need all the troops we can get for when the time comes.”

“Speaking of, I think it’s about time we got going,” Raiden said with an edgy back turn.

“Right,” Snake agreed in his gravelly voice. “And Clay.”

“Yeah?”

“When we get home take that off,” he gently commanded with a point to Clay’s blood slick sick jumpsuit, “you look fucking ridiculous.”

Clay followed behind the two older men, looking down at himself in thought, _“Well I thought I looked good in it…And you’re the one who told me to wear it…You big…jerk…”_

With stragglers dealt with, and new recruits packaged up and sent off to Mother Base by some means or another, Clay and the crew all piled into a conga line of vehicles and made their way through the town streets back home. However, using his nerdy eyeballs of roundness, Otacon spotted a cool cat hanging upside down from a streetlamp. He got an even better view of the feline themed man once he fell from said pole and onto the windshield of the nerd’s stolen automobile.

“What the hell?” Tyler shrieked at the sudden appearance of the beret wearer.

Equally surprised, but also needing to park, Otacon skillfully drove the van into the nearest mailbox. Once “parked” everyone in their vehicles hopped out and jogged over to see what the deal was.

Snake didn’t know how to deal, but he knew who the deal. “Ocelot,” he stated in name.

Sliding off the car and doing a cat style stretch, Otacon spun around in multiple circles before posing. “Snake, long time no see.”

“Who’s this guy?” Clay asked like a boy tugging on his mother’s apron.

“Is this that weird revolver guy?” Tony asked with a bit more background knowledge.

As if to answer, Ocelot was already twirling two revolvers in his hands like steam powered windmills.

Protectively picking up Clay in one arm and Tony in the other, Snake asked, “What do you want Ocelot? Are you with the enemy?”

Tossing the two six shooters into the air, the man in the red beret twirled in a 360 just in time to have them land perfectly into their holsters. “Who can say?”

“You could,” Blade Wolf stated, “as you are the man in question. Are we hostiles or allies?”

Instead of giving an answer Ocelot just made weird chuckle sounds while doing small poses. “Look, I just wanted to give you guys a warning.”

“Warning?” Clay repeated with warn.

“A certain boy king has gotten frightened of waiting for an assassin to claim his life. Thus he has reinforced his keep and is gathering an army to completely wipe out you and your sympathizers,” Ocelot explained. The revolving man then revolved around a bit before pointing ominously, “He’ll be upon your base within two days time.”

“He’s talking about Marcus!” Tony angered from Snake’s muscly shoulder.

“Wait, you’re saying someone’s going to attack Mother Base?” Otacon asked.

“Correct,” answered the ocelot appreciator named Ocelot.

“That’s not good…” Tyler weaklinged, “If Marcus does attack, he’s totally going to bring Bryce and all his jocks too…”

“Then we’ll kill the kid now,” Raiden said with katana.

“No way! Fighting Marcus and Bryce on their home turf would be just as bad!” Tony exclaimed with age old enemies.

“Then why not kill him at his house? It’s night now, so he’d be there right?” Clay questioned.

“Seriously Clay?” Tyler shook his head, knowing knowledge equal to the Tonester, “I don’t think I’ve seen Marcus leave the school once in my whole life. I think he just lives there.”

Chuckling, Ocelot perched himself on the nearby destroyed mailbox and lit up a revolver to smoke. “Tonight may not be the night, but why not tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?” Clay asked.

“According to…” Ocelot trailed off before smirking, “a cat on the streets; the boy known as Bryce and all the sports teams will be leaving town tomorrow to conquer a neighboring school’s sports team and will not return until the following day at noon.”

Snake, skeptical, set down Clay and Tony before turning to Tyler, “You’re a nerd, you’d know if the local big boys weren’t going to be at school to beat and bully you. So is he tellin’ the truth kid?”

“Huh?!” Tyler hesitated, still shaken by Snake’s sheer chad aura despite being on the same team. “W-well now that I think about it…yeah! Almost all the major sports teams will be gone from school tomorrow!”

“So that’ll mean Marcus’s forces will be cut in half!” Tony enthused, eager to beat up the dark king.

Tyler continued with school knowledge, “And most of Marcus’s men will be conscripts from the lower grades! The only ones we’d have to watch out for are his knights and whatever clubs he can round up!”

“So in other words our only choice is to kill Marcus tomorrow night or wind up dead ourselves the following day?” Clay asked to confirm.

“Heh, pretty much,” Ocelot said with nonchalant.

“Inquiry,” Blade Wolf inquired, “what is to stop the hostile known as Bryce from still assaulting our headquarters the following day with his own men?”

“He wouldn’t,” quickly answered Tony. “Marcus is the one who came up with this plan, which means Bryce is just going along with it. Without someone else to guide him he won’t know what to do and will back off,” Tony explained with football playbooks by old coaches.

“Then it looks like we’ll need to return to base to prepare for a siege tomorrow night,” Snake said, illuminated in the night by the glow of a cigarette stick.

Clay turned away from his mentor in time to see Ocelot back on his feet and began to slink away into the shadows like the mighty jungle panther. Curious, the boy called out, “Hey, who was the ‘cat on the streets’ you mentioned? And why’d you tell us all this?”

Tony spun around like a greaser in a diner whom had just had his milkshake spilt. “Hey, yeah why are you helping us you weirdo!?”

Ocelot spun back around to face the boys. “The cat I mentioned? Heh, let’s just say the reptile isn’t the only creature looking to pass on its knowledge. And as to why I’m helping you?” He gave a short laugh before slinking into the shadows, throwing up his arms, he finished, “Who knows? Maybe because it’d be better if you were all around for future events.”

“What does that even mean?” Clay asked, but got no answer, as Ocelot was already off and into the night.

Snake made a noise of gruff origins before saying, "Worry about him later Clay. If I can't figure him out there's no way an unrefined diamond like you could."

Tony sighed, "He's right. If Ocelot was telling the truth then we need to hurry up back to Mother Base and get our boys ready to kick Marcus's ass!"

Abandoning the flowery scented van, the boys (and robot dog) all nodded and used means and methods of forward momentum in order to make urgent progress back to their home base of motherhood. Meanwhile after the Clay and crew had long since left the scene, Ocelot rolled back out from the shadows, soon to be accompanied by the young woman known as Sheri, who had been watching to take notes.

"And that my dear is how you give information before being vague and exiting the scene. I tried to keep it simple for your sake," the Ocelot explained to the kitten.

Sheri, dressed similarly to Ocelot's spin efficient Russian garb (minus the beret because she has not yet earned it), gave a golf clap to her mentor. "I learn much from your teachings master."

With his pupil in tow, Ocelot began to idly spin a revolver with his pinkie as the two walked. "Be ready Sheri. We only need Snake to live through this, but that boy named Clay might actually be useful too. So I might need you to jump in and lend them a hand at some point."

Still uninformed of her teacher's true plans knowledge but filled with loyalty, Sheri answered with a confident, "Of course master. But why can you not help directly as well?"

The jungle cat gunslinger smirked. "Now where's the fun in that?"

"Master, with all do respect, I really don't understand your thought process behind some of your actions."

"Maybe you will some day. Probably not though," the man laughed before doing jazz hands into the shadows.

Momentarily surprised, the girl sighed and chased off after her enigma of a teacher.

_To Be Continued --->_


	8. Sieging the Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With very little time to spare, Clay and the rest of the boys must quickly throw together an army to storm Marcus's keep and dethrone him before it's too late.

After learning the startling news from Ocelot, Clay and crew all rushed back to Mother Base in a serpentine hurry. The urgency was so known to the Clayboy that he was able to maneuver his hot pink motorcycle through the night like a masterful horse rider in the big town rodeo (although he was mostly just copying Tony’s driving skills since the greaser was such an experienced automobile pilot in comparison to Clay who literally learned to drive like a day ago). The boys all slammed into the front yard of Mother Base just in time to see head jock trooper going over impromptu orientation with the new Japanese culture club kids.

“Hi bosses!” the jock boy greeted.

But he and all other troops were ignored as the main crew followed Snake into the base, and furthermore, into the kitchen! Snake ripped the whiteboard off the hinges of its natural habitat (the rolling device part of it) and proceeded to slam the board onto the spacious kitchen counter.

“My whiteboard!” Tyler cried as Snake shoved all the previous Courtney info from the board.

“Worry about the whiteboard later white boy!” Tony said, shoving aside the curly haired kid to get a look at Snake’s motions.

“What are you doing Snake?” Clay asked, looking at Snake’s decent military doodles.

“Drawing out our forces. The ones I know off the top of my head of course,” Snake explained before barking to Blade Wolf, “Blade Wolf I need you to run recon on the enemy, bring Tyler with you. I want details on their base and current troop count.”

“Understood, I shall do my best,” Blade Wolf obeyed with military experience, picking up Tyler like a kitten on the way out the door.

“I’m not going with him?” Raiden asked in genuine.

“No, I need you to take over for head jock trooper in incorporating those new katana wielding children into our ranks,” Snake explained, still doodling. “Otacon you help.”

Raiden crossed his arms and darkened his eyes with sword school. “Hmph, got it.”

“Will do!” Otacon said with anime.

The Tonester pocketed his hands and sighed, “This is gonna be a ton of work, but I’m the only one who can do it.”

“Do what?” Clay asked to appease the Tony who clearly stopped his sentence there because he wanted someone to ask.

“We've definitely got our own attack force, sure, but I don't know if it'll be enough to get through all of Marcus's knights. I’ll head out and gather my own backup, I should get back by tomorrow morning,” Tony informed, already half way out the home with keys to his red automobile in hand.

“Well we’ll need all the help we can get. If you trust them then bring them on over,” Snake blessed the greaser’s decision. With Tony departed it was then with his serpent eyes of precision, Snake focused on the Clayboy. “I need you to help me count and measure up our own forces.”

Clay gave a firm nod of counting.

And so while Blade Wolf was out with Tyler doing reconnaissance, and Raiden was teaching the swords and guns to work in union, Snake and his pupil began to take stock of jock. Weapons and ammo were distributed as Snake continued to update his battlefield board of Mother vs kingdom. Eventually Blade Wolf returned, barreling into the kitchen whilst dragging Tyler along by the tail. Eager with news, Tyler rose to his feet with camera and photography in hand.

Handing the pictures over to Snake, Tyler explained, “These are some photos I managed to snap of the school. It looks like Marcus is already prepping for defense.”

“Has he figured us out?”

“I don’t think so; it seems like a preemptive measure. But he’ll be ready to defend his keep quick when he does hear what we’re up to.”

Pawing his way to the board and picking up a marker with his chainsaw grabbing tail, Blade Wolf informed, “I will help doodle current enemy troop count.”

“Oh by the way,” Tyler said with nerd voice, “I got the rest of the photography club to join us. They’ll gather up our equipment and meet us here as soon as possible while some will stay behind on school grounds to keep us updated on what Marcus is doing.”

Snaked nodded like a proud military uncle. “Good work kid.” After Tyler got a dumb smile and walked off, Snake, now joined by Clay, continued to go over plans and siege tactics for reasonable hours. Clay brought up possible tips and tricks to use he learned from RTS games he’d play during mathematics class. But while Clay was babbling about that jazz, it was the sound of thunderous car honks that made Snake look outside and notice morning had already crawled over the horizon. And more importantly that there was a congregation of greasers outside.

Clay and his mentor tumbled out the door to see Tony at the head of the crowd of grease boys in their hotrods and motor powered bikes. “Sup nerds!” Tony greeted, arms outstretched with squeaking leather.

“Who the fuck are these people!?” Clay shout questioned at the rabbling crowd of rabble rousers.

Tony pointed to the left of the crowd fanned out behind him with a shout, “I’ve gathered the slickest leather workers from the east of the tracks!” to the accompaniment of shout and pocketknives. He then pointed to a group in the middle, “The silent street toughs from the north of the tracks!” to the accompaniment of silence, but loud fists. Still pointing to bodies in the middle, “The ancient grease mechanics from the south of the tracks!” followed by the sounds of angry wrenches and grease. “And gracing us with their presence,” Tony said with a point to the right of the crowd, “the coolest cats from the west of the tracks!”

After Tony’s words; a young man riding upon a horse themed motorcycle wheeled up to Snake and Clay. Sporting a mighty pompadour he said, “Although we all come from opposite sides of the collective tracks, we all can agree on our disdain for the dark king. We’ll help you bring him down, so that greasers and musicals may once more flow free through the halls of the local schoolhouse.”

Snake was happy to accept such tough reinforcements, but Clay just couldn’t stop thinking, _“Tracks…? Does this town even have a train yard? Eh probably, I never really got out much, so I guess I can’t say for certain there isn’t freight train deliveries running through town.”_

But reinforced introductions continued when panzer tanks rolled up to the front lawn, much to the surprise of both Clay and the old time greasers. While nerdy boys and girls dressed in very problematic black uniforms popped out of the handful of war time tanks, Tyler stumbled out of the home in pleasantry.

“Guys! Thanks for coming! Snake, Clay, this is the rest of the photography club!”

Snake was silent, but Clay commented, “Tyler I know you said you’ve moved past the whole weird stalker thing, but I think there are other things to move past from as well.”

“Like what?” the boy asked, donning the old black uniform his comrades had brought him.

“Nothing,” Snake interrupted, “we’re thankful for the assistance.” Snake then pulled his pupil aside with words, “Sometimes you have to accept help from bad places.”

Tony strolled over with eyebrows. “Where the fuck did they get tanks?”

Clay only then noticed he hadn’t commented on that. Then he thought perhaps he was getting a little used to strange things happening around him. A little.

Snake blew smoke with an answer, “Well they do seem to be avid collectors for ‘this’ kind of stuff.”

Overlooking the photography club’s questionable choice in aesthetics, Tony yawned with a stretch, “Well anyway it took all night, but I did it! I gathered every true greaser in town!”

“Yeah, seriously impressive Tony! Thanks!” Clay thanked his pal, even though he didn’t truly know how hard it was, he could get an idea just based on how many rebellious leather warriors were in the front lawn.

Tony scratched his nose and smiled. “Heh, no problem. Just know that you guys owe me some Coke for this!”

But the sunshine of the new day made Snake finally realize the sun had already crawled over the horizon and was likely killing any vampires out and about, but more importantly that Clay had been yet to be put to bed! Tossing his dying cigarette into the mouth of a hungry greaser, Snake turned to the boy Stand user, “Alright it’s about time you got a bit of rest. You’ll need to be in top shape for tonight.”

Fearing punches, Clay raised his hands in peace. “Yeah, yeah, that’s cool! I’m tired after fighting Courtney from last night!”

“Good, I’m glad, nighty night,” Snake smiled before delivering a swift sleep time CQC punch to Clay’s face. The older man felt a tinge of pride as he noticed Clay tried his best to CQC counter the sleepy punch, but was still no match for his master.

And so while Clay caught Z’s, Snake helped Raiden and Otacon get the Japanese enthusiasts and the jocktroopers organized. Tony did his best to make sure his greasers all played nice and didn’t terrorize the neighborhood. Tyler and Blade Wolf tended to their recon based tasks while learning more about each other and their appreciation for long walks in the park. And head jocktrooper tenderly treated Clay’s injuries in his sleep, as if he were a fair maiden treating the injuries of her beloved medieval restaurant jouster.

* * *

Of course the boys of Mother Base weren’t the only ones in town with spies for eyes. The hustle and bustle at the base caused Marcus’s scouts to don their hoods of ranger and make fast tracks back to the iron-clad keep of Marcus. The fastest of the scouting team, a young freshman, burst into the student council room (now converted into the throne room of the dark king) well before the royal door guards could properly open the door and guide him in.

One of Marcus’s top knights swiftly met the boy at the open doors of the throne room and pointed his blade at the lad’s twig-like freshman neck. But the dark king, sat upon his throne crafted by the finest children in the blacksmithing club, held out a hand and spoke, “Stop. Let the boy in, and let him speak.”

The knight sheathed his blade and returned to his post saying, “Yes my liege.”

With forged steel away from his throat flesh, the scouting boy ran further into the room and knelt before his one true king. “King Marcus, I come to you with urgent news!”

“Well? Let’s hear it boy,” Marcus said with mighty authority and crossed legs.

“Me and the other fellas were keeping an eye on that Mother Base place like you asked, but they weren’t going about their business like they had been the day before. There are a bunch of people gathering up there, and they’re all arming themselves!”

Marcus’s index finger and thumb travelled to his chin to give it a good stroke as he thought about Mother and Bases. “Hmph, seems their intelligence team is more impressive than I thought. Still, to think they’d learn of our attack so soon.”

The freshman worked up the nerve to continue. “But sir, I don’t believe they’re getting ready to defend. Me and the other fellas thought it looked like they were getting ready to move out and…well attack us.”

Marcus’s fat eyeballs contorted in reaction. “What? Clay Jensen thinks he can attack me!? In my own keep!?” Once more his hand roamed over his face in pondering. “Although…” the king trailed then snapped, “Bolan, have Bryce and his boys departed?”

Bolan, Marcus’s right hand man, answered, “Yes they have your majesty. He and all the other major gun toting sports teams have departed to capture a rival school’s gym.”

Marcus’s kingly face scowled. “Tsk, clever move Clay Jensen, clever indeed. So rather than await your doom you’d rather risk it all by coming to face me.”

Bolan cleared his flem packed throat before suggesting, “Your majesty, if Clay Jensen truly does intend to siege the castle and claim your life then I believe it would be wise to hide you away somewhere safer and-“

“And what!?” Marcus growled, “Abandon the school _I _put so much blood, sweat, and tears into? Abandon _my _subjects to hold _my _keep? No!” he shouted, standing from his throne. Stepping forth, his kingly garb and cape flowing in the nonexistent wind, everyone in the room knelt for the king.

“Let them come! These school walls have stood for hundreds of years and will stand for hundreds more!” The king looked down upon his doubting advisors and bodyguards. “When I first ascended the throne as a freshman they said it’d be impossible! Yet I did it, I took the throne, I secured our school, I drove back other lesser institutes of education, and I have brought much glory to our sports teams! I ask you men, do you really think Clay Jensen and his mismatched horde of jocks, greasers, and virgins will be our downfall!?”

The men all stood and knew the collective answer, “No my liege!”

Marcus crossed his arms and looked out one of his finally crafted windows. “I will die defending this school before I would ever dream of abandoning it.” He then turned back to Bolan with grim looks. “Bolan, let everyone know we’re preparing for a siege. I want every club using their full capabilities to prepare this place for war. And I want every student from every grade who can hold a weapon to be here tonight to fight. Deserters will be executed.”

“E-every student sir?” Bolan had to question. “Even the younger freshman and sophomores?”

“Yes,” Marcus answered; a face full of bloodbath. “It pains me, but if Clay is giving this his all then so will I. And if it comes down to it, I will use my Stand,” the dark king finished, shining in a dull golden aura.

* * *

Awhile after awakening on Mother Base's front lawn, surrounded by multiple manly greaser barbeques, Clay convened with his named comrades (who had also gotten pepped and rested for the night’s events). However as the sun continued rolling rolling rolling down out of the sky, Tyler stumbled into the kitchen war room with trouble on his face and news in his words.

“Snake! Guys! Bad news!” Tyler expelled, photography in hand. Throwing the photos onto the white board (now the war board) Tyler pointed his thin finger at the bodies filling the school, even despite the late hours of the day. “Marcus must’ve caught wind of our plan; he’s gathering up every student he can to defend the school! It’s getting too dangerous over there so my guys had to pull out too.”

Snake didn’t seem pleased, tossing aside his ciggy so that he could put a pipe in his mouth. Not to smoke but to lightly chew on in thought like a professor from the 1800’s would. Then with a sigh he said, “I didn’t want to do this, especially now that the hour of attack is almost at hand, but with these new enemy reinforcements I have no choice.”

Clay and some of the others followed Snake to the front door where he was donning an overcoat and fedora like a father heading out to buy cigarettes. “Where are you going?” Clay asked in abandonment.

“Our chances of beating that many children armed with swords and guns are slim. We’ll need an ace of our own, and I’m the only one who can gather them.” Opening the door he then ordered, “I’ll try to be back before the battle, but that’s highly unlikely. Remember, attack by midnight, with or without me. Clay’s in charge.”

“Wha-!? Hey, whoa, why me?”

“Because you’re the only one who can.”

“Are you sure about that?!” Clay asked with a hard point to the nerd and cyborg man in the doorway.

“Otacon can’t connect to the soldier spirit, and Raiden’s to edged for the jocks and greasers. It’s your diamond in the rough aura that’ll unite them to defeat this boy king,” Snake tried to explain.

“I…think I get it?” Clay answered still quite uncertain.

Even though Snake was certain of his uncertainty, he still nodded, knowing this wasn’t his pupil’s first dance with possible death. “I’ll leave it to all of you for now then. I’ll return as swiftly as I can.” And with that, Snake’s bandana flowed in the wind as he ran like the wind off into the sunset.

Tony watched on, saying, “Well guess it’s up to us to lead the attack,” trying to comfort Clay by letting him know the leadership wasn’t a one captain ship.

Clay sighed before steeling his nerves, “Right.” He had already dealt with four metal gear conspirators (five if you count the redemption of Tyler) but the difference this time would be charging into a real battlefield. It was at this point Clay was still realizing just how bizarre his life was getting. But if it was going to continue, might as well get some warfare leadership skills under his belt.

“Well then we should get back to the board and finalize our plans!” Otacon cheered, acting more like a soccer mom before the big game rather than a man with an anime degree.

With leadership in his chest Clay walked boldly as he could back to the kitchen with the Tonester by his side. There they finalized how the jocks, greasers, photography nerds, and Japanese practitioners would be divided up on the battlefield and who would lead them. It was agreed upon that Otacon would hang back and provide medicine and helpful advice to those in the outside battle, and Riaden would remain outside to guard and lead as well. Meanwhile Tony and BladeWolf would lead a main force of greasers and jocks into the school to bring down the keep. At the same time Clay, Tyler, and a dispatchment of some jocks and photo nerds would worm their way through the school to take down King Marcus.

The plans were set, dinner was served, and the sun had disappeared from the sky. And with his very own small army waiting outside it was time for the Clayboy to deliver words unto their ears in order to kick gears into battle time. Stepping out onto the lawn with the other named characters alongside him (and head jocktrooper uncomfortably close to him for protection reasons) Clay looked over the multitude of mixed bodies and faces.

“Thanks for being here everyone,” Clay began humbly. “I know you’re all here for different reasons and normally probably wouldn’t even interact with some of the people here, but we’re all here because we share the same goal. To take down King Marcus!”

That goal reaffirmation earned a few cheers and murmurs of agreement from the warrior crowd.

“Now I know I’m no Snake, but he left me in charge, so I’m going to do my best to live up to his expectations and lead us to victory. And victory is our only choice, because defeat not only spells our deaths, but the complete annihilation of the photography club, Japanese culture club, and possibly even greaser culture here in our town. So if you would have me as your leader, I would be honored if you rode with me into battle to dethrone the dark king!” Clay finished, trying his best to sound like a punished war hero. “All of us, myself included, are now dogs of war. But that doesn’t mean we’re disgusting or worthless like Marcus thinks we are! We are Diamond Dogs!” Clay shouted with name, finally giving a proper name to Snake’s PMC project.

And to both his surprise and joy the large crowd of boys and girls cheered out in agreeance. “We’re with ya boss man!” the jock troopers shouted out. “We’ll ride with you Pepsi virgin!” the greasers called out with revving engines.

Clay shot a questioning look to Tony who just smiled and shrugged, but was clearly the culprit behind the leadership nickname. Tony coughed and then brought along the topic, “So…Diamond Dogs?”

“Yeah,” Clay said, only slightly deterred, “it just felt right, ya know?”

Tony just shrugged again, but Otacon smiled like a mother. “I think it’s a swell name!”

“I enjoy it greatly,” inputted Blade Wolf.

With opinions taken into account, Clay stuck with his naming decision and shouted, “Then let’s ride!”

The horns of war blew, that being everyone’s car horns, as they rolled down the streets to their siege destination. Clay rode upon his hog, Tyler hitched a ride with his tank driving comrades, and the rest of the boys piled into Tony’s hotrod (which he was going to park a respectable distance away from the thick of the fray for both Otacon’s safety sake and because he didn’t want his ride to get a scratch). The body of troops either latched onto the greasers with wheels or marched with fervor; an easy task for the entirety of the jocktrooper force.

But while the boys and girls of Mother Base made tracks to get into sieging positions, King Marcus was already standing atop his school’s mighty front wall. The blacksmithing, welding, and woodshop clubs combined their efforts to reinforce the school’s defenses, as well as arm every student big and small with a weapon. The second floor above the school’s mighty barred door was lined with members of the tennis club armed with grenades, the third floor was where the archery club took up position, and the rooftop was occupied by the trebuchets the physics club could throw together.

“Bolan,” Marcus said with king on his voice, “I want you down on the lower floors. If these plebeians somehow manage to breach the gate I want you down there to hold back Clay or any of his friends back with your Stand.”

“Of course sire. But are you sure you will you be fine without me?” the advisor questioned.

“I have had to kill many with just my Stand before Bolan, and I have my royal knights,” he reminded with a nod to the nearby six knights who waved back to their king. “And if I’m somehow desperate enough…I can call him…”

Bolan was surprised to hear _he_ and his men were still in town, but it wasn’t the first time they had been left behind. The old timer was more concerned whether the ape of a man could remember his oath to the king. But the advisor trusted his king, and thus did as ordered to join the knights downstairs to fend off any Stand users Clay had tagging along with him.

Marcus then squinted his already small eyeballs for maximum looking to spy headlights approaching from the darkness. Clay and his peasant horde were gathering on the school’s front lawn as thunder boomed overhead. The loud sound and the feeling of a cold wind picking up made Marcus realize a storm was going to start any moment.

Clay, at the forefront of his army, noticed a rabble of knights defending the barred school entranceway, accompanied by a row of cavalry soldiers which was no doubt a joint effort combo of the hockey team and horse riding clubs. Armed with pointed cast iron hockey sticks, atop snarling local ranch horses, the students lined up ready to face the greasers on their metal hogs.

Up above, arms crossed, Marcus scoffed with a laugh, “Is this all you could conjure Clay? Your men will break against my fortress like a river rushing against a stone.”

“Fuck you and your analogies!” Tony shouted.

“Your reign of terror ends tonight Marcus!” Clay yelled up to the ruler of highschool.

“Hmph, we shall see Clay Jensen,” Marcus muttered.

Words and insults came to a halt as the boys and girls of both sides stared each other down. Tyler scurried over in time to be by Clay’s side as his tank companions crawled into position to be prepped to return fire upon any who would rain down projectiles from above. Raiden gave silent nods to the many samurai wannabes he had taken under his wing as he drew his blade.

Even then eyes just continued to stay locked between the strongest of the bunches, while the more tiny warrior’s eyes frantically kept flicking from target to target. For agonizing minutes no one was moving a god damn muscle; least of all Clay and Marcus, who were still trying to kill each other with looks alone. And then at long last a freshman up on floor three finally breaks and releases his notched arrow, which flew true and dug itself into the chest of a greaser.

After taking a few seconds to process what had just happened Clay’s army roared to the accompaniment of thunder and fresh falling rain.

“And so it begins,” Marcus whispered.

The metaphorical gates were now open as every student from the upper floors began raining down grenades, bullets, and arrows upon the exposed Mother Base boys. As Tyler’s tank pals began firing back with tanks rounds (which the school walls defended against better than anyone expected) Tony sprinted through the maelstrom to use The Fonz to lay down picket like ice spike fences for any passing by greasers or jocktroopers to use for cover. Which some boys did and returned fire to the children up above; pelting their student bodies with bullets.

Marcus turned back to his trebuchet students. “What are you waiting for? Return fire!” And fire was returned in the form of boulder covered in old school desks attached via very strong duct tape and then set ablaze. And while the boulders couldn’t pierce the hide of the photography club’s tanks, the impact was enough to knock a few on their sides like rotund turtles.

Raiden, cutting a path alongside his students through the clash of motor greasers and horse riders, shouted, “Go you idiots move!”

Clay nodded, revving up his hot pink ride as Tyler hopped on. “Thanks Riaden!” the boy called as they sped through the battlefield.

Tyler, now with canine understanding and budding friendship, called out, “Blade Wolf! Get the door please!”

Blade Wolf’s nonexistent ears perked up as his chainsaw tail revved. “Please is indeed the magical word,” was all he said before bolting like a big cat on the savannah toward the school entrance doors and going to town on it with his tail, chopping renforced wood and students in all.

This maneuver was a bit off however, do to the fact Clay’s speeding was getting them closer to the still closed gate by the second. With quick serpent thinking, and a tinge of sadness in his heart to sacrifice his late birthday gift, Clay said, “Fuck it. Tyler jump!”

Tyler got the idea quick enough as the two boys dove off the vehicle, Clay then used Hannah Baker to give the speeding metal a “push” in the right direction. The two wheeled hog soared through the air, over Blade Wolf’s noggin, and collided with the battered school doors. And much like a depressed teen, all the abuse caused it to finally break.

Rushing over to the hound’s side, Tyler called out the next plan, “Blade Wolf!”

The robo hound looked back with listening fake eyes.

“Go for a walk boy!”

Blade Wolf’s tail wagged to and fro excitedly. “Affirmative,” is what he said delightedly before rushing into the school halls, followed by the screams of children and the clanging of swordplay.

“Wow…I actually feel pretty shitty about this now,” Clay said with revelations that most of these child soldiers were innocent. Generally anyway. Sure a good handful were dismissive and even outright rude about his homie’s death, but did that warrant getting chopped up by a robotic wolf dog? Clay thought not.

“Desperate times Clay!” Tony (joined by his personal posse of greasers) shouted. “If they’re smart they’ll try to run instead of trying to defend this place,” he said with hope as he loaded an old fashioned black switchblade. “Now you two get moving and take down Marcus, I’ll help Blade Wolf clear this place while Raiden handles things out here.”

“Right,” Clay said, refocusing on the mission.

“If he’s still not up on the roof Marcus probably made his way back to his throne room,” Tyler said with info.

“Any idea where that is?”

“It’s just the student council room I know the way,” Tyler said, already leading the way.

Clay turned back to the jocktroopers and photography nerds following him, “Come on let’s kill a king!”

“Hell yeah boss man!” the jockiest of the jocks responded, the others cheering alongside him with bullets and football.

Meanwhile Tyler’s theory had become reality. Marcus, noticing how quickly some of the filthy rats were infiltrating his castle, no longer cared about relying on the help of a dumb animal. Moving swiftly across the roof to avoid the debris of mortar shots intended to blast away the trebuchets, Marcus climbed one of his finely crafted castle towers (now besmirched by a heathen’s rebellion) to the open top. Grabbing a nearby authentic torch he lit the beacon to call for aid.

“Now I just hope that idiot sees it and gets here in time,” Marcus grumbled before heading back down to make way for his throne room. One look to his royal knights and they knew where they were going.

Back down below while Blade Wolf was running around making a mess of the halls, and Clay and Tyler were looking for the king, Tony ran through the other halls with his greasers. Death and injuries were unavoidable as they bumped into countless roaming packs of knights and conscripted school goers.

Blocking a sword slash with his switch blade before using The Fonz to bash another knight’s face in, Tony griped, “Damn it these bastards just don’t let up!”

Suddenly the Tonester noticed a mighty sly looking group of rapier wielding individuals strutting down the hall. It took a second but he finally registered it was the fencing club! And they were being shadowed by principal Bolan!

The older man let his student posse meander up as he enemy greeted, “Well if it isn’t Antonio Padilla. And just what do you think you’re doing to the king’s fine school grounds young man?”

“What does it look like old timer?” Tony questioned back with a kick to a helmed boy on the ground.

“It looks like a little degenerate and his school flunkies need to be executed,” Bolan answered, snapping his fingers. “Have at it boys, extra credit to you if you can kill Tony.”

Eager to beat down the man that likely kicked them out of the institution of highschool education at some point, the greasers didn’t hesitate to rush headlong into the fencing club in order to get to Bolan. The Tonester found himself in a baby fencing match himself whilst his grease buddies beat the fencing aficionados, but were equally run through by thin pointed steel. Despite "swordplay" not really being his thing, Tony fought like a ferocious street tough, knowing that Clay, Raiden, and all the others were fighting just as hard as he was to bring down the king's men.

After finally stabbing the lad in front of him to probable death, Tony finally saw that the fighting was done. And while the greasers were the winners only three were left, all of which were on the floor and in some manner of pain. Upon noticing Bolan walk past two, Tony reflexively hopped back a bit. Now standing roughly a ruler’s length away from the other greaser laying on the floor do to stab pains, Bolan gave an old man smirk.

“What’re you waiting for Mr. Padilla? Attack me with that Fonz you’re so fond of.”

“Tsk, will do, you rotten old bastard,” Tony replied, The Fonz appearing coolly behind him.

“Now I wonder,” Bolan began, “I know the Fonz’s range isn’t actually that impressive, but could your ice spike attack reach me? Well, not like it matters.”

Tony was beginning to process that the smug old timer must’ve had a trick up his sleeves. More pressing however was the sudden scream coming from the greaser near Bolan. Tony’s eyes shot back to Bolan, now exuding a strange red and tan aura, and the sound of sizzling could be heard. The sizzling was not from the old principal though, it was coming from Tony’s grease pal, whom was now a boiling grease boy; unable to get up due to his stab wound, all he could do was scream and writhe on the floor.

Appearing from behind Bolan was a bizarre lobster about the size of a dog. The large crustacean’s noodly lobster arms led to pincers poking into the ground. Even stranger was the fact that the almost alien looking lobster was covered in cup noodles; with an additional cup placed so comically to look like the lobster was wearing a hat that one might think it intentional.

Bolan chuckled at the greaser writhing on the ground (who was now red and gasping as his skin seemed to melt with his leather jacket), “Go ahead, attack me knave. That is if you can get past my Stand, **Bowling for Soup**.”

Tony frowned in anger, and despite feeling his shoes slowly get hotter, he still had The Fonz punch the ground in order to send a steady trail of spiked ice at Bolan. But the principal just stood calmly, watching how quickly Tony’s manifested ice slowly but surely melted onto the floor like sinking pointy islands, leaving nothing but ice pebbles and steam.

Feeling a lingering pain Tony looked down to see his right hand’s knuckles were slightly red and burned. _“That’s the same hand I used to punch with The Fonz. And my feet are getting warmer too!”_ Tony thought as he stepped further back, noticing the steam rising from the floor. It was then the Tonester looked on to see the once screaming greaser was now a red silent corpse, likely succumbing to his stabs and the boiling.

Bolan chuckled again in sadistic principal, “What? Is the cool unshakable Tony going to flee? And abandon his two buddies?” Bolan pointed backwards to the two greasers still alive but in pain a fair distance behind the cruel old timer.

“Like hell I’ll run from you and abandon two greaser cats!” Tony shouted in anger at the right hand of Marcus. Looking to his side the young leather wearer noticed the discarded weapon, a wrench, of one of his fallen brethren. Thinking a ranged ice attack wouldn’t work, Tony did his best to surprise the principal by lunging for the tool and then quickly throwing it like a throwable blade at the school faculty face of Bolan.

Despite the sick speed Tony put into his throw, Bowling for Soup easily reached up a single claw to grab the wrench, heat it, then gave it a long toss backwards; landing on and burning a fresh screaming greaser.

Bolan clapped. “Nice attempt young man, A for effort. But I didn’t become Marcus’s right hand just because of my faculty position. My Stand and his are the perfect combination, and is quite powerful on its own as you can see. I am both his advisor and guardian.”

“Then why aren’t you with him now, huh?” Tony questioned as he got back to his warming feet.

“I could ask the same of you. Clearly you follow Mr. Jensen, do you not? We’re both here right now because our leaders believe in our abilities to get the job done. The only difference is you’re just a worthless grease monkey who doesn’t know the first thing about loyalty.” Bolan’s aura spiked as he gave quite a pose considering his age. “I am willing to die for my king, and this school! Can you say the same greaser?”

Tony didn’t answer he just shouted, “The Fonz!” with new plot of attack. After his lunging the Tonester was now closer to the hallway wall and proceeded to have The Fonz give it one of its usual chilly punches. _“I’ve had the Fonz since I was a kid, but I rarely deviate how I use him.” _Thoughts of school days and street fights tumbled through Tony’s mind. _“Because I always used his power for myself, only occasionally watching out for Clay from the shadows.”_ The ice spike patch snaked its way along the left wall, eventually reaching the trajectory of Bolan before jutting out fiercely. _“Not any more though. I’ll use all my power and my Stand’s power to lead my friends to victory!”_

Tony’s thoughts of victory instantly melted away though, just like the ice along the wall. Bolan barely turned his head to face the spike, now melting away, that had almost made it to his face. A clear steam poured off the wall, now filling the hall with even more warm vapors, but Tony could still see that Bolan’s odd lobster Stand had reached out a claw to place on the wall.

Bolan stepped forward. “Is that it? Tony if your Stand can’t touch me and neither can you then your only option is to run, right?” The principal Stand user then laughed in detention, “Oh but if you do that I’ll kill those two boys on the floor, and then some more of your men! Eventually I’ll even regroup with Marcus, and by then your precious Clay and company will be doomed!”

Tony sweated from pressure and steam, but got another idea. With claws in mind Tony quickly slid to the right and punched the wall, sending another snaking line of spiked ice to the man. But the alien looking noodle themed lobster scurried quick to claw the wall. Accounting for this, at the same time the enemy Stand moved Tony slid back to the other wall to deal an even quicker punch.

But to his dismay, while the ice didn’t melt quite as quickly, it still melted nonetheless. Tony grunted in pain as he got back to his feet; his knees and one of his hands feeling as though they had just rubbed against a hot kettle.

Bolan just chuckled more at the failing student. “Oh Tony, if only you’d put this much effort into your classes! Another good try, but in case you haven’t figured it out yet Bowling for Soup can cause any inanimate object he touches to start to heat up like boiling water. And while he needs to touch something to heat it, or continually heat it up, things he’s touched take a bit to cool down.” Bolan lifted his arms in show. “In these compact school halls, you and your ice can’t touch me! No matter how much ice you throw my way, Bowling for Soup will just turn up the heat! And feel free to try and get close to punch me; Bowling for Soup’s heat is more intense closer to his body!”

For a split second Tony thought about running. Just to grab backup, he tried to justify. Then Bolan said something the boy wasn't expecting.

"Go ahead, run Tony. You already let your family die, what do a couple of random leather jacket wearers matter?" the old man sneered.

Tony looked down for a second, completely caught off guard and disturbed that someone knew _that _knowledge and brought it up. But while it was momentarily discomforting, Tony's greaser spirit began to glow again as he looked up to the sadistic principal.

"Oh dear, did I strike a nerve Mr. Padilla? Of course I know about the slaughter of your entire family! I mean I don't know the details, but their deaths were brought to my attention when you first enrolled here."

The Tonester stayed silent, he wouldn't waste words on this horrid education conductor. Instead he'd follow in his old man's footsteps and let his actions do the talking, and furthermore, wouldn't abandon his greaser brethren to this madman. But first he had to plot out a plan of attack.

_“Sending out ice spike trails is pointless, no matter how much my ice cools the ground that thing is constantly keeping it boiling hot. Throwing things isn’t gonna work, and the only guns on the floor are out of reach and will burn to touch. Bolan though…That’s my only choice, but I need to get close…Maybe my ice spikes aren’t completely useless after all ….”_

Despite what his mind said, Tony gave the floor a few good pummelings, sending ice spike trails futilely toward Bolan. Of course all of them melted after a mere few seconds and gave way to steam, but far more steam than Bolan was comfortable with. Enough steam that it was getting a little hard to see, but the principal stepped back a bit when he managed to spot Tony rushing through the steam.

“You idiot! Did you really think you could make it to me!? The heat you were feeling back there was minimal! Your-“

“Feet are gonna melt? Not anymore!” Tony grunted from the searing steam fog and another source of pain.

For the first time in the fight, Bolan looked shocked.

“Your next line will be ‘Impossible. You shouldn’t even be able to walk on this floor.’”

“Impossible! You shouldn’t even be able to-!” Bolan stopped mid correct guess in shock.

Time seemed to slow as he observed Tony’s feet were emanating steam, the source of which were ice spikes sticking out of his shoes. This maneuver came about when Tony realized it wouldn’t actually take too many long strides to reach Bolan, and thus the ice spikes sticking out through the shoes would take the brunt of the heat while Tony’s rubber shoes and ice within the shoe would keep his feet safe for the rest of the steppage. Of course Tony almost slipped on his own melting ice and could have potentially burnt his own face off, but he managed to keep his balance.

The next thing Bolan could process was Tony’s tough young fist making contact with his jaw, sending the man staggering backwards. Bowling for Soup tried to move from its position in pursuit of Tony and his master, but The Fonz floating slightly above it kept it restrained by the claws. The lobster Stand was quick, but not strong enough to overpower The Fonz’s lobster handling hands.

Tony dealt another fast punch, this time sending Bolan flat onto his back. And when the boy fell down along with him positioning his knees on the principal’s sides where he felt only a minute radiance of the earlier heat on his knees.

“Just like I thought, you’re not immune to the heat; a part of your Stand’s power leaves a small radius constantly around you that cancels out the boiling. As long as I’m on top of you like this I don’t have to worry about getting burned!” Tony explained with words before explaining with fists. Punch after punch was dealt to the man’s jaw and general face area causing his head to whip from side to side.

Bolan thought it was finally over once Tony got off of him, but this was obviously incorrect. “Fonzie!” Tony shouted back and the Stand understood. The cool phantom used his strength to hoist up and toss back Bowling for Soup, giving the spirit of grease the seconds he needed to get to Tony’s side next to Bolan.

Bolan squirmed like a stewed shrimp trying to get away from not only Tony’s violent gaze, but the imminent grease punching. On one foot and one knee, the principal looked in horror as Tony gave a point with his thumb, “Let’s teach him a lesson Fonzie!” The greaser Stand rushed forward and unleashed a bout of punches unto the old man’s bones, accompanied by the battle shout of Tony, “Ay ay ay ay ay ay ay ay!” And with one final frigid punch, The Fonz sent Bolan flying into the wall, cracking it along with the man’s skull. The lobster Stand vanished as Bolan slumped onto the now normal floor, the Tonester giving a recognizable pose and finishing with a proud, “Aaayyy.”

Tony sighed, falling to the floor once the pain of blistering hot steam and feet related pain caught up with him. Looking over to the broken body of Bolan, Tony spat, “My loyalty to my friends is greater than yours could ever be to that bastard of a king. Not only are they all I got left, but I know that unlike your ‘king’, Clay and the others would risk their necks for me like I risk mine for them.”

* * *

Many necks were indeed being risked, or in Blade Wolf’s case, separated from children’s bodies. The robotic hound was still on his mission of chopping up as many hostiles as he could find, only occasionally stopping to place his paw into the open palms of nearby jocktroopers and greasers who had a love for canines (no matter how artificial). But no matter how many doggy handshakes he gave he still kept up the mission of chopping up the student body, only being slowed by knights who had some sword play to fend off the chainsaw tail of doom wielded by the A.I. piloted dog.

But on the upper floors of the needlessly castle themed school house is where Blade Wolf eventually bumped into the primary target. At the end of one of the long halls was King Marcus himself surrounded by his personal knight guardians.

Revving up his sawing tail, Blade Wolf robotically spoke with flashy red fake eyeballs focused on his target, “Primary target acquired.”

Hearing the sound of a bounding hound and chainsaw cutting along the wall alerted Marcus and his bodyguards. The large bulky student knights automatically got into practiced formation with their swords and shields to defend the king. But Marcus snapped his fingers with silent orders, and the knights instantly changed their plans. Two rushed forward with war cries to face Blade Wolf head on while the other four formed around the king.

The two knight guardians must have had actual training or had deep kingdom fighting spirit because Blade Wolf was surprised how much of a fight they had put up. But the hound soon processed that wasn’t a genuine attempt to slay a mechanical monster, but rather a distraction, giving Marcus time to rearrange his four knights into a human throne. Despite the crudeness of it the four boys not only did their best to be a seat for a king, but to elevate him a bit while they were at it (no matter how much it hurt their knees and backs).

Sitting on one of the boy’s backs while two served as armrests and the last a back support, Marcus raised his fingers and snapped. Sure enough a colored aura surrounded him and adorning his once empty shaved head was a silver crown. A seemingly simple round crown with jagged edges that was engraved with images of kneeling skeletons lining the crown’s ring to meet in the middle where an encrusted oval ruby lie in the crown.

“**King of Kings**!” Marcus said with royal authority in his voice. “Sit mutt!”

Before Blade Wolf even had the chance to move an inch he found himself forcibly sitting like a good boy. “I cannot move. This is…irritating.”

“Hmph, to be quite frank I wasn’t sure if King of Kings would work on a robot,” Marcus said from his throne.

“That is because I am machine in body only. I’ve come to learn that within burns the soul of a proud canine,” Blade Wolf said poetically. “That is what Raiden and I think anyway.”

Marcus simply rolled his eyes and flatly said, “How foolish. Giving a simple weapon of war the ability to trick itself into thinking it’s an actual living creature. Although my Stand did work on you, so maybe you aren’t just a worthless toy soldier,” Marcus snapped his fingers, “well even if you were ‘alive’ you’d still be less than a peasant in the fields. You’d be a miserable flea ridden mutt.”

Blade Wolf gave off a growl because he read on the internet one time that humans get scared of wolfs and dogs when they growl and show their teeth. And Blade Wolf was always showing his teeth by design, so he was feeling pretty confident already having one of the steps out of the way.

Marcus sighed, “What a sad stupid little creature. Do me a favor boy, jump out that window would you?”

“I don’t take orders from-“ Blade Wolf was saying the words but stopped short when realized he was already on his feet and smashing through the window. Blade Wolf didn’t find out he had regained control of his limbs until he was mere seconds away from the ground, and he tried to land with grace, but he was no feline so he sort of just flopped and flailed like a dog trying to scratch its back on the rug (but Blade Wolf was flopping and flailing from confusion and ground impact).

Getting back up on all fours and shaking off his nonexistent fur, Blade Wolf redetermined his objective. Activating his inner codec, Blade Wolf decided to give Clay and his newest walking buddy Tyler a call. “Clay, Tyler, can you hear me?”

Clay and Tyler picked up the call whilst skulking through the second level of the school, letting the jocktroopers check the perimeter. “What’s up Blade Wolf?” Clay asked.

“I am heading to your current location. I have just had an encounter with the primary target, and we must discuss his Stand ability.”

“You saw it?” Clay tossed out another question.

“Was it scary!?” Tyler asked with bully kings.

“It appeared to be a kingly crown. But its ability was quite troublesome,” the wolf explained. “Hold current position if possible, I’m on my way.”

Sighing with leadership, Clay said, “Alright, see you soon Blade Wolf.”

* * *

Meanwhile Raiden was the only one outside (besides Otacon, but he was a support role) with some fame to his name. His natural edged silence made it difficult for him to give good inspirational orders, but he got by on grouchy do or die samurai bravado that seemed to motivate the soldiers accompanying him on the front lawn battlefield.

Many of Tyler’s tank friends were either toppled or out of ammo, but on the plus side most of the ranged enemies from the upper floors were taken care of; only a few stragglers here and there kept up the fight. With the greasers and jocks unexpectedly fighting back-to-back, and Raiden slashing away the foes alongside his fellow swordsmen, outcomes of the battle were looking good as more and more of Marcus’s men fell or retreated. Until Otacon called.

Over the codec Raiden could hear the distinct sound of tires squealing, Tony’s hot rod tires, and the medical nerd desperately speaking, “R-Raiden! I need you to call Clay and t-tell him we’ve got trouble!”

Fending off two more gung-ho knights, Raiden finally caught a break to ask, “What trouble, what’s going on? Can’t you tell him?” Raiden additionally asked as he blocked another stray sword swing.

With the sound of wild elephants screaming in the background and thunderous stomps, Otacon explained, “I called you first to warn you, and I’m busy trying to get away! Enemy reinforcements showed up! Dozens of them! You need to get ready!”

Raiden narrowed his precise eyes and wanted to ask more, but he soon felt the rumble of the earth beneath his feet and heard powerful engines and elephant calls on the wind. Stopping the call, Raiden looked off to the army’s rear and saw headlights growing closer and closer by the second. And then out of the shadows with a mighty call were painted war elephants, with painted monster trucks following behind them.

Large barbaric jocktroopers wielding shotguns and sledgehammers rode in on these trucks and elephants, while some jogged confidently alongside the gargantuan transportation methods. And all these brutish ball playing students were chanting one name in unison.

“ZACH! ZACH! ZACH! ZACH! ZACH!”

Atop the most metal of all the monstrous trucks, anointed with the biggest of skeletal elephant parts, stood the mountain of a boy named Zach. Dressed in a barbaric garb displaying many bones and skulls of nerds, and wearing a savagely crafted metal horned battle helmet, Zach beat on his bare muscular chest like a gorilla angered by airplanes.

Raiden, finally snapping out of it, screamed out to any and all that could hear him, “Enemy reinforcements! Greasers reform the line! Reform the line!”

Many did hear the word, and surprisingly for such a mismatched group of soldiers, formed into proper ranks. The Japanese culture club kids with half the jocktroopers continued to fight off Marcus’s men, while the greasers hurriedly reformed their motorcycle charge with the other half of the jocktroopers armed and ready at their backs.

Zach screamed out from atop his trucking monster, “Silly leather warriors! Elephants big! Monster trucks big! ZACH BIG! Zach crush all of you!!!”

Zach’s words filled the less brave men and women of the Mother Base force with dread and gave way to a spirited roar from his own fellow barbarians. And it was this roar that made Clay finally look out a nearby window in dread at the horde charging toward Raiden and the rest of his boys.

_To Be Continued --->_


	9. Of Elephants and Kings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrival of a new Stand user, Zach, could mean victory or defeat for the Mother Base boys, as Clay tries to dethrone king Marcus.

Clay was still baffled by what he was seeing out the window and was glued in place. Watching as the elephants of war waved their heads side to side, toppling many a speeding greaser on motorcycle back. The monster trucks wheels were soon sporting coats of red as they trampled over jocktroopers and greasers alike, even doing some sick wheelies for extra salt in the wounds.

Just when Clay was getting a codec call, Tyler finally got to Clay’s standing position with unawareness. “Clay come on we gotta- woah what the fuck is going on out there!?”

Answering the call of codec, Clay could hear Raiden struggling as he was no doubt fending off an entire pack of highschool barbarians by himself. Clay could tell form the incoherent screaming about balls. “Clay! We’ve got trouble out here!”

“Yeah, I can see it!” Clay responded.

“Well this explains where all the elephants in the zoo went,” Tyler stated with day old newspaper stories.

With the sounds of decapitations in the background, Raiden informed, “Look I’m going to hold them back as long as I can! But you need to hurry and kill that kid king!”

Tearing his eyes away from the window seat of outdoor battles, the Clayster began moving through the halls again as he said, “Right, we’re on it. Just hold on a little longer Raiden.” The call ended with a silent nod from the cyborg. “Come on Tyler, we need to keep moving.”

“What about Blade Wolf?”

“He’s a smart dog, he’ll manage to find us,” Clay dog whispered, signaling to his boys and photo associates that it was time to head up to floor three.

* * *

Down on the battlefield, once the greasers had gotten over their initial shock of facing down the large tusked creatures, had regained their cool and fought back. The greasers all got out their manly chains of varying lengths and degrees and began to circle around the creatures legs in order to tangle and topple them. Some resorted to more simple drive by tactics of speeding past the beasts’ legs and hitting them with crowbars and pistol ammunition.

The jocks, who too knew their fair share of vehicles, much like the mighty order of greasers, took it upon themselves to use such knowledge to try and fell the monstrous monster trucks. This amounted to shooting at the tires and throwing things like bricks and trashcans at the drivers.

In addition, Otacon hadn’t abandoned the battlefield like Raiden had previously thought. Instead, almost heroically, Otacon rode out of nowhere onto the green (if mostly blood splattered) school lawn and began doing piss-poor donuts around the enemies. In the back of Tony’s hot rod was head jocktrooper wielding a military grade LMG to subdue the shirtless ball players.

“Oh dear god we’re going to die!” Otacon pissed from the driver’s seat.

Between his war screams, head jocktrooper chastised, “Keep driving Otacon! We’ve gotta make the boss proud!”

By this point, Zach was both angered and confuzzled by how his giant men and beasts hadn’t already trampled over Clay’s army, so he himself jumped straight off his truck and cracked the ground underneath as he did so. Jocktroopers and bikeless greasers watched in terror as the bullets and hits only seemed to slow the boy as he approached each, killing and mutilating them in a multitude of ways.

Once head jocktrooper spotted the war chief literally completely crushing a fellow bro’s skull with one hand, he knew who was the main target. “Otacon! Drive straight at him!”

“What?!”

“Do it!” the often kindly hardworking ball player demanded.

Otacon obeyed and shifted gears as he lined up a path toward Zach. “I really hope Tony forgives us for this…”

Slamming his fine brown leather shoe onto the gas pedal, Otacon tore up the soil beneath the car as he propelled himself and head jocktrooper on a way-one vehicular manslaughter. Of course head jocktrooper’s mindset was to make it a homicide, so he leaned out the window and started blasting as he screamed in warrior.

The threat of a speeding vehicle and bullets didn’t even seem to faze the towering boy though. Zach raised his arms and pressed them together to protect his head, and crouched down as if to brace for impact. Within seconds Tony’s red hotrod was stopped and crunched at the front, as if it had just crashed head on into a boulder. This of course gave the two boys in the vehicle some serious whiplash from the sudden and violent stop.

“The…bullets…didn’t do anything!?” head jocktrooper shocked now that he had a close up view of Zachary.

At that time Raiden was probably the only one on the field who could see why that stunt hadn’t worked. Readying his sword for maximum slashage, Raiden sprinted forward and warned, “Otacon get back! His Stand is already active!”

By the time the warning had reached Otacon’s ears, Zach roared like a grumpy mountain bear and proceeded to grip the front of the vehicle and in one fluid motion flip it over. The war chief then turned around and gripped the horizontal sword slash Raiden had delivered.

Now up close, within his enemy’s deep sea blue aura, Raiden could make out his Stand. It was an armor type; a sturdy yet maneuverable suit made of elephant bones decked out with tusk-like spikes. The Stand covered everything but the boy’s likely empty head.

“Tiny sword no can hurt Zach!” the muscular marauder yelled, Raiden’s blade still firmly being held in Zach’s gauntlet covered hand.

_“Is his Stand nullifying all our attacks, or does it just not work **because** his armor is a Stand?”_ Raiden tried to puzzle out in his brain as he finally pulled his blade free from the boy’s grip. Raiden retightened his on grip on his trusty edged sword and took a breath as he focused to slice apart the large meaty boy.

Whilst Zach and Raiden were having a stare down, Otacon had crawled out of the wrecked vehicle with head jocktrooper. Bloody and on his knees, the nerd shouted out to his ally, “Don’t do it Raiden! His Stand is too strong!”

“Just shut up and get yourself and the kid out of here!” Raiden anti-heroed with a point to the nerd and the shaking bloodied boy next to him.

Hoisting up the car crash raddled head jocktrooper (who wanted to demand to stay and protect his precious boss Clay, but couldn’t, do to the fact he was in the process of choking on his own blood) Otacon skedaddled for what his above average brain must have thought a safe location.

Zach began to beat on his chest like a silverback gorilla getting ready to beat down a professional boxer in the ring, waiting to see if Raiden would dare to make the first move. Raiden moved alright, but he didn’t use his enhanced calves muscles to launch into action, instead he slowly circled the wild boy to look for an opening. The most obvious opening being the one place on his body that wasn’t actually protected by his Stand. His thick skull.

Raiden pounced like a mighty land hawk with his sword as his claws to try and dice up Zachary’s head. Raiden’s sword didn’t meet the flesh and bone of his targets skull though; all he heard were the dissatisfying clangs of Zach’s gauntlets blocking the swings. Raiden then tried going for his back and chest, but even when Zach missed a block, Raiden’s sword couldn’t pierce the Stand’s defenses.

_“Damn, he’s fast! Maybe the armor helps with it but he seems to be blocking my swift cybernetic strikes much quicker than I anticipated.”_ Raiden hopped back to catch a breath whilst Zach gave a war cry. _“But his head must be his weak spot, the helmet he’s wearing is just for fashion. Which means even his Stand can’t save him from my blade!”_

With renewed energy, Raiden’s eye flashed red with edgy killing intent as he went to separate Zach’s upper head from his jaw. With his strength, speed, and precision it should have been a snap even if his target was a Stand user. The only thing Raiden’s cyborg brain warned of like malware was the possibility Zach could counter with one of his legs. But Raiden hadn’t worried; there was no way that this boy’s strength, even if it did damage his fortified metal body, could actually stop Raiden.

So why, he wondered. Why was he not moving anymore even though he was just a few feet from Zach, and why did he feel blood pouring from his lips? Sword still raised in the air, Raiden looked down to see Zach’s right leg outstretched, and his barbarian bootclad foot slammed into his robotic chest, which was now cracked and sparking with internal damage.

_“What…? Have I been slacking on my body’s maintenance? Or…is he really this strong…?” _Raiden thought, shell-shocked from the damage intake.

And then like a big time MMA fighter in the ring, Zach followed up his kick with a much less powerful punch to Raiden’s metallic jaw. Sent onto the ground, holding himself up with his own sword, Raiden coughed up blood and tried to get back up.

Zach’s seemed to shake his head as if to focus or remind himself of what he was doing. It was then he turned away and muttered, “Need find Marcus.” Content to leave the slaughter to his troops the war chief bolted off toward the front doors of the school, and none of the Diamond Dogs nor their allies could stop him as he did so.

“Shit,” Raiden spat as he looked down at himself. “Even if we kill the kid king, can we kill that monster? Fucking Stand users,” Raiden groaned as he tried to get back up. Back up on his rebooting feet Raiden looked around to see barbarians and knights alike were closing in on him. “Alright, looks like things might be slightly fair for you amateurs now,” Raiden chuckled, his sword ready. “Bring it.”

* * *

“Tyler, you sure you know where you’re going?” Clay asked the boy who claimed to know the path to the student council room.

“Yeah I’m…I’m pretty sure?”

“Tyler!”

“What!? Clay we go to school in a fucking castle designed by a highschooler! It’s an achievement to find your classes in this damn place!” Tyler quiet shouted in defense.

“Did he ever have a map drawn!?” Clay quiet shouted back.

“No! He said they didn’t have those back then, but I’m not sure if that’s true or not! Even if it was, why the fuck wouldn’t you have a map!? Architecture plans are basically a map! Actually…did he even have plans drawn up when they made this place!? If not, that would explain some things!” Tyler finished with a rising shout, an outstretched hand to a nearby hallway that literally just led to a hole in the side of the building (which was indeed the sight of many a death by bully shoving).

Clay sighed, “Okay look, why don’t we split up?” Clay then whistled to the photography nerds and jocktroopers. “Fan out fellas, we’re looking for the student council room. If you find it report back to Tyler and me asap.”

“Got it boss!” the jocktroopers saluted. The photography nerds just gave thumbs up to Tyler as they moved out with their new jock allies.

“We should keep looking too,” Tyler spoke up. “Sorry by the way…I thought I knew the way.”

“It’s fine, it’s not your fault this place is a fucking navigation nightmare,” Clay said sympathetically.

As the two got moving again to resume their search, Tyler interjected, “Hey Clay,” the other boy looked back for a continuation, “you’re really starting to fit into this leader thing.”

“I don’t know about that,” Clay said flattered, kicking a stray can some delinquent carelessly littered in the halls. “But..thanks.”

* * *

Down on the ground floor, with blistered feet and steamed fingers, Tony leaned against a stone wall as he stumbled through the corpse littered hall floor. Regardless of the physical injuries on his body the Tonester’s mind was being pricked by the bad memories Bolan had brought up during their fight. It filled him with the determination not to fail his allies but it also made him remember how useless he felt once he had discovered the massacre. Shaking off the past clouding his mind Tony took a breath and gritted his teeth, he’d had his rest and decided it was time to power through any lingering pain and get back in the fight.

The fight however came to him. Tony could see four bloodied and battered knights marching down the hall on his position. It was clear they had earned their fair share of kills in battle.

“Well look what we’ve got here guys, it’s Tony! The coolest greaser around!” the tall knight boy of the pack marveled with mock. “Bad day to actually bother showing up to school knave.”

Tony rolled his shoulders and readjusted his leather jacket, Fonzie at the ready. “I’m more interested in helping my friends right now. So why don’t you take a hike shit head.”

The head knight leaned back and laughed, looking to his comrades drawing their swords and shields. “You hear that boys? This loiter-sack thinks we’re shit!” Finally unsheathing his own weapon, the boy’s face was masked but Tony could tell he was leering smugly. “Why don’t we gut him like we did those other leather workers?”

“Your hide will fetch a nice price from the king,” a bloated boy knight chimed in.

“Maybe if you’re lucky we’ll let ya live long enough to see our king hang your precious leader’s corpse from the school gates!” commented another.

“Clay won’t lose to your bastard king!” Tony shouted.

The lead knight chuckled, “Nah, your boy toy is done for. I’ve seen it before; our liege has a special power that no one can overcome. Heh, if you were in the room with him he’d probably make you kill Jensen!”

Tony was done talking to medieval school boys. With unseen powers of his own he summoned ice spikes to impale two by the feet until the points jutted out there decently crafted hip bones, then dispatching the other two quickly with otherworldly phantom greaser punches. “No one’s going to kill Clay. Especially not any of you fuckers,” Tony spat on his enemies mostly dead bodies. It was then in the silence after the ice execution that the Tonester heard the choir of elephant death rampaging outside. “What the hell?” he muttered, deciding to find a window to investigate.

Of course while Tony was fighting and investigating he had no clue that knights weren’t the only threat now stalking the school halls. Now finally up the grand and needlessly inconvenient staircase, Zach was thrashing through the second floor like a rhino in a pottery shop. A few stray photo nerds who had teamed up with a thinned group of greasers saw the beast barreling toward them.

“Quick gentlemen! Lay down a covering fire while I and my comrades maneuver around the beast for a more favorable target of attack!” the glasses wearing photo boy ordered, arming himself with a strapped high quality camera. “The nape of the neck should be a viable weak point-“

And that’s where the boy’s planned stopped. Because in all that talking Zach hadn’t slowed down a second, even with the greasers pelting him with 9mm rounds. So the mountain boy just slammed into the group as if they were flesh bowling pins and then lifted the photography nerd into the air; ripping his jaw off before tossing him out the nearby window.

“No big words! Stop with words! Zach crush! Kill!” Zachary war cried as he spun around to slaughter the rest of the group.

* * *

Meanwhile, Clay and Tyler had still yet to find the student council room.

“Ugh!” Clay grunted as he slammed a door. “Why!? Why does the door labeled archives lead into a nurse’s office that’s just filled with sports equipment!? How does anyone get anything done around here!?”

“Seriously…” Tyler sighed, returning from a hallway that was just filled with torture racks. Complaints ceased pouring from his lips though as his ears picked up hears. “You hear that?”

Scraping on stone floors echoed in the halls as something approached the two. A second or two later revealed it to be none other than Blade Wolf! “Blade Wolf!” Clay name dropped, “good to see you’re mostly still intact boy.”

The hound slowed his four legged sprint and trotted up to the baby Stand user. Still standing but now looking upward with his sharp red robot eyes to Clay, the hound’s long waving tail came around and gave the boy a firm slap on the face.

“Ouch! What the hell?!” Clay cried with a stinging cheek.

With his tail resuming normal wagging procedures, Blade Wolf said, “I apologize Clay, I was not aware the definition of ‘hold position’ had changed meaning.”

“We’re sorry Wolf,” Tyler apologized in place of his leader/comrade in teenage arms, “but we’ve gotta find king Marcus before it’s too late!”

“Understandable, my apologies. I can help with that objective, although I have unfortunate information to share.”

“Is this about Marcus’s Stand?” Clay questioned.

“That is indeed part of it. But I’m afraid I gathered more ‘bad news’ as I was tracking you two.” The skinny nerd and the Clayboy listened on with eyes and ears of awaiting despair. “I discovered the location of the primary target within his throne room and was coming to find and lead you to it, but saw that some of our allies had already happened upon the target.”

“Who?” Tyler asked.

“Some of the soldiers you provided,” the hound said with a tail point to Tyler, “and some Mother Base personnel.”

Tyler tentatively looked over to Clay, who was already clenching his fists. “The group that was with us…Damn it! I’m an idiot! We shouldn’t have split up!”

“It may be fortunate you didn’t,” Blade Wolf said, stoic as ever with his synthetic voice. “Marcus’s knights were defeated, but it seemed only five or so of the boys survived the fight. When I arrived I saw Marcus using his Stand on the survivors. I laid low outside the door to avoid detection and see if I could assist our allies.”

The robot wolf dog sat down and stared at Clay with serious explanations. “The target was sitting upon his throne, unharmed, with his Stand activated. He commanded them to kneel, and our allies did so, then he simply commanded ‘lift your weapons to your heads and then pull the trigger’.” Blade Wolf paused. “And then they obeyed. All of them simultaneously committed suicide.”

“Oh god…how…how can we beat a Stand like that?!” Tyler whimpered.

Clay didn’t whine about the whimpering though, because he too felt disheartened by the news. But one single sentence rang in his head amidst the despair of lost soldiers and frightening Stands. _“Clay’s in charge.”_ That was right; Snake had placed _him_ in charge. Which meant it was up to him to make sure those Mother Base boy’s lives weren’t lost in vain.

“Blade Wolf, were you affected by the Stand?” Clay asked as calmly as he could.

“In that incident I was indeed once again affected by it. However, while I did kneel, I did not terminate myself when commanded.” Blade Wolf’s long grabbing tail swayed with purpose. “This could be because I did not have a gun. Also, I regained my motor functions after the target momentarily got up to kick away a dead knight at his feet."

Calmed down somewhat, Tyler pondered with power. “But he phrased it ‘Lift your weapon to your head and pull the trigger’. Couldn’t your chainsaw count?”

Clay then theorized, “Maybe Blade Wolf’s right and it didn’t work because he couldn’t specifically follow that command. Or maybe it didn’t work because he couldn’t physically do it.”

“What do you mean?” Tyler questioned with confused unshaven eyebrows.

“Look I’m just guessing here, but most Stands have _some_ sort of weakness right? Maybe Marcus’s commands are specifically tied to something. Why couldn’t he just tell them all ‘Kill yourselves’, and earlier Blade Wolf ran into him, right?”

“Affirmative,” affirmed the hound.

Clay continued with his desperate times theory, “Why didn’t he just command Wolf ‘Destroy yourself’ or ‘Go kill your comrades’?”

“I believe I have a possible answer to the second query,” Blade Wolf piped with answer. “After leaping out a window under the boy king’s command, at some point during the fall I regained control. Therefore commands cease after a certain distance away from the king.”

Tyler rubbed his chin in thought harder than he ever rubbed himself, trying to figure out the enemy Stand. “Could it be…maybe he can only command you using your arms and legs?”

The snake on a hamster wheel within Clay’s mind turned and turned. “That could be it. That would explain the specific command to our troopers, and possibly why the command didn’t work on Blade Wolf. Blade Wolf’s tail can’t be controlled because it’s not technically an arm or leg!”

“What triggers it though? Is it just being close to him?” Tyler then asked with range stats.

“It could be sound. Maybe just hearing the command is what activates it,” Clay answered.

Tyler sighed and his inner whimpering bullied photo nerd came out. “Still how are we actually going to beat him? M-Maybe…Blade Wolf you’ve got throwing knives or whatever you can throw with your tail, right? Can’t you just stay out of his range and hit him with those?”

“My throwing knives are of limited supply. I exhausted them whilst clearing out the children wielding explosives on floor 2. Regardless, effective range to hit the target and kill him would most likely be within his Stand’s range, and he being in control of my legs would lead to missing the target or jumping out another window.”

“He has windows in his throne room?” Clay asked to confirm.

“Affirmative. Six stained glass windows, three lining both the left and right walls.”

Clay paused to put on a thinking face he’d seen Snake make on numerous occasions in the hope’s it’d help a bit. _“Range. Windows. Photography.”_ Words and imaginary scenarios played in Clay’s mind like an old fashioned nickelodeon. Then he looked up; a plan clearly taking form. “I’ve got an idea. It’s risky as hell, but it could work. Tyler do you got any pictures of yourself with you?”

“Yeah of course. I always keep one or two with me in case I need to hide from Bryce’s guys,” the photo professional said with bullied school days.

“Okay good. And Blade Wolf can you get up on the rooftops?”

“Of course,” the hound responded in the positive.

“Alright, then here’s what I think we should do…” Clay began as he pulled the camera tamer and the robot death dog into a group huddle.

* * *

Outside the battle was slowly but surely turning in favor for king Marcus. Elephants and unruly teens with no licenses to drive monster trucks were still rampant, and unlike Marcus’s men, Zach’s were far more strong and hearty, which meant they proved to be difficult foes to fell even with bullet technology. By this point most of the photography club and Japanese culture club had been slain at the still fighting Raiden’s feet. And though the front lawn battle may be lost, he hadn’t given up on the main mission.

Plunging his sword through another barbarian’s chest and carving outward, Raiden shouted, “If you can’t keep fighting, retreat! Get the wounded out of here!”

Some baby jocktroopers heard the call and obeyed, but through bro brotherhood those who were still strong enough didn’t leave the cyborg to battle alone.

Bloodied, tiring, and suffering from severe structural damage thanks to Zach, Raiden still continued to slice and dice. Telling his fellow warriors to retreat if possible would only make him an even bigger target, he knew this, but still went through with it. The thrill and danger of the battle just seemed to ignite his inner edgy spirit.

Three overeager knights all rushed the seemingly weakened Raiden only to have all their sword swinging arms lopped off in one precise strike. After chopping up the silver bound boys some more he just began laughing like a maniac at the other knights and barbs cautiously surrounding him.

“Well?! Come on! I’m finally starting to get warmed up!” Raiden screamed to the foes surrounding him; an almost menacing red aura surrounding him. “This pain is nothing! I’m dying for a real fight here! Give it to me!”

“This freak’s lost it…” one knight mumbled to a brother in arms.

“The only one who could really hurt him was war chief Zach,” another commented.

“Enough talk!” a jock barbarian growled to the sword wielders near him. “He’s spouting a bunch of bullshit! Just kill him!”

The majority of the crowd rushed Raiden right away, their combined war cries barely able to drown out Raiden’s cackling. And the cyborg just continued to laugh as he spun around with the speed and sharpness of an expensive blender, hacking off limbs left and right. He even went so far as to chop up one of the larger meaty barbarians by grabbing his sword mid swing with cyborg foot to continue hacking away at the boy with his outlandish kicking swordplay.

“Is that it? Come on, I was starting to get back in my element!” Raiden laughed, as he hobbled toward the few survivors of the last group of enemies with his blood soaked blade. “Give me a reason to show you why they call me Jack the Ripper!”

Then out of nowhere, the cowering boys were given an (arguably) merciful death by ice spike patch. “How about we chill out a bit man?” Tony suggested to Raiden whilst walking over to his position.

With his aura of sheer killing intent calming, Raiden sighed, “Right....I got a bit carried away for a second.”

“It’s fine, just don’t want you to ‘bring out Jack’ and accidently chop some of us up in the process,” Tony warned.

“I said I got it! I’m fine now, but we’ve still got enemies to mop up.” It was at this point Raiden noticed Tony himself wasn’t looking too hot (which was normal most of the time because The Fonz kept him cool, but this was different). “You good?”

“Of course, wouldn’t be out here helping your robot ass if I wasn’t. Hell, I should be asking you that, what happened?” Tony asked with a quick point to Raiden’s sparking cracked robo chest.

“Another Stand user showed up, this really tall ripped kid with black hair.”

“Zach…” Tony named. “Where is he?”

“Ran off into the building,” Raiden pointed with his dripping sword. “You going after him?”

Tony, now seeing more berserking berserkers rampaging over to the two with big tired trucks in tow, readied The Fonz. “No, I came out here to help you in the first place. I just gotta believe Tyler and Blade Wolf can keep Clay safe.”

Raiden resumed his battle stance next to the leather wearer. “Fair enough. Now, let’s see just how ‘superior’ you Stand users are to good old fashioned cybernetic enchantments,” Raiden challenged, actually wearing a genuine smirk for once.

“Again, big talk coming from someone with a hole in his chest,” Tony shot back, gearing up to help out the edge lord. Back to back, the Stand user and the well over six million dollar man embraced the bloody storm that was about to transpire.

* * *

Back upstairs the time had finally come. Clay was swiftly marching toward the location of the throne room, with Blade Wolf’s directions in mind as he passed the fallen bodies littering the school halls that only seemed to grow in number as he neared the notorious sitting room. The once normal school functioning doorway, now converted into a proper kingly double door entranceway, was hanging open slightly ajar as if to invite the baby Stand user in.

Clay, still determined, accepted the silent invitation and walked past the bodies of the boys he had just spoken to less than an half an hour ago. Beyond the doors more corpses of both allies and enemies greeted him, lit ominously by the dim candle light of the cold dark throne room. Thunder clapped and lighting struck outside as Clay walked further into the enemy’s den, where said enemy was sitting atop his throne, his Stand already manifested. The snake raised boy stopped about a quarter of the way into the room to stare at his foe.

The dark king, sitting confidently atop his seat of kinghood with a relaxed seating position, spoke, “So, you’ve come to face me alone Jensen?”

“Yeah,” was all Clay replied with.

The king laughed quietly, “Do you not know how powerful my Stand is? Some of us are born to lead, Jensen, that’s why _I _was born to obtain this power. Our school used to be absolute shit, but ever since I rose to power I’ve made something of this place!”

“You’re insane,” Clay said, but still remained as cool and calm as could be. Maybe it was the bodies of the boys that trusted him being nearby that gave him the resolve to face the king with little fear. “And yeah I know about your Stand, but I also know it can’t be _that_ all powerful if you’ve got to take orders from someone else.”

Marcus scowled at this comment.

“You can’t be the leader of the Metal Gear group; it just wouldn’t fit your style to build a giant robot death machine of all things. So clearly there’s someone you can’t defy that you’re listening to,” Clay theorized with wise Snake influences.

“I’m not ‘taking orders’ from someone else! I’m an equal! Just trying to ensure my kingdom, and peasants like you, survive and thrive once the project is complete!” answered Marcus. “You, Tony,…Hannah Baker. You all possibly could’ve survived this if you hadn’t stuck your noses where they didn’t belong!”

Clay had heard enough and finally clenched his fists. “To hell with that. This ends here Marcus!” And then Clay took a few more strides into the long grandiose throne room.

Marcus’s minor anger was replaced by amused disbelief as Clay took his steps. “Are you approaching me? You know how powerful King of Kings is, and yet you’re actually approaching me?”

“I can’t knock you off that fucking throne without getting closer,” Clay simply said, not hesitating once in his forward motion.

“Oh ho! Well then come as close as you like,” Marcus chuckled, his dull golden aura shimmering.

And the approaching continued. Clay and Marcus both narrowed their eyes as they stared at one another. The dark king was scanning the boy, waiting to see if he had some sort of trick up his sleeve or if this really was nothing more than bravado inspired by some older gentleman named after a reptile. And then the moment Marcus believed he had gotten too close he shouted with an extended point of his royal index finger.

“Kneel!”

Clay felt an odd restraining sensation wash over his arms and legs, as if some unseen force had them in a vice lock. Then without even being able to put up an ounce of resistance, Clay’s knee buckled and he found himself kneeling before the tyrant of highschool. Still in control of his head, the Clayboy looked up in defiance.

Marcus laughed uproariously whilst leaning back in his seat. “What did you think would happen Jensen? That you’d just walk in here and beat me up with your Stand, simple as that!? This is why people like me exist. To lead idiotic, foolhardy, little peasants like you into making yourselves useful.” Marcus sighed, almost looking pitifully upon Clay. “Now then. Raise your knife to your throat and slit it,” Marcus commanded coldly.

But Clay just continued to kneel.

Marcus tilted his crowned head in slight confusion. “You can’t disobey King of Kings...What did you…?”

“Thought you’d try something like that," Clay said. “It’s funny, during all that searching for your room, I actually managed to find my locker, which is a fucking miracle in this school. So I left all my weapons there.”

Marcus frowned at the locker unit of Clay.

“And since you aren’t telling my Stand to attack me that means you can’t control that either.” Clay tried to give a cocky Tony expression in honor of the said greaser. “Your Stand is annoying, but its got holes.”

“Tsk, enough of this. Stand and-“

“Let’s see if this is another one!” Clay suddenly shouted. “Blade Wolf now!” Clay follow up shouted over the codec.

“Affirmative, entering now,” Blade Wolf responded.

Up on the rooftop a small distance from the throne room, Blade Wolf ran gracefully, using his lanky tail as if he were some kind of spider monkey in order to hang down, break through one of the windows, do an unnecessary flip, and then land ferociously in the room where the teenage boys were situated.

“That hound!” hounded Marcus.

“That’s right, our pet robot dog!” Clay affirmed. With his entrance made, Blade Wolf didn’t waste a second and sprinted for the throne, teeth and metal ready to rip and tear. “A neat feature he has is that he can cancel out his audio intake device, but can still communicate via codec. Which means he can’t hear anything right now.”

Just as Blade Wolf was about to pass Clay and leapt a couple feet off the ground, Marcus regained his cocky smile and spoke loudly, “Sit mutt!”

And the mutt’s motor muscles quickly seized up as he fell and slid across the stone floor in sit mode.

“So that was your ploy Clay? Get me to lower my guard and then have your toy kill me?” the dark king laughed. “A decent trick, but unfortunately King of Kings doesn’t operate by sound. As long as I’m sitting on a throne, and you’re within King of Kings range, any command I give involving your arms and legs must be obeyed! Whether you can hear it or not!”

But Clay wasn’t deterred by the still Blade Wolf. In fact he kept smiling. “Good to know. Then it looks like plan B is a go!”

Suddenly, before Marcus could comment on this beta plan, a figure appeared out of the corner of the dark king’s right eye. Hands gripping the arm rests of his kingly seat, Marcus quickly looked to his side where Clay was staring at a skinny curly haired boy in a near problematic uniform. With his aura spiking, Marcus was about to shout his usual kneel command in defense, but Tyler commanded faster.

“Look at this Photograph!” Tyler named, pointing at the shocked king.

Then with superior speed, Tyler’s nerdy styled photography inspired Stand spun around its user and rushed the king with many strikes. The Stand’s arms and hands were scrawny looking, much like it’s user’s, but the sheer number of punches in quick succession, followed by a finishing uppercut, was enough to launch Marcus from his throne.

Sharing a look of working plans, Clay and Blade Wolf quickly got back to their feet and nodded to each other. The human hound duo then made a break for the now empty throne, with fists and chainsaw ready to go wild. Tyler scrambled out of the way as the two descended upon the throne and proceeded to slice it into dozens of pieces, which were then punched to dust by phantom punches.

Blade Wolf trotted away to make sure Tyler was alright after his scrambling dive, while the Clayboy walked slowly over to Marcus; sitting on the floor and scooting back dumbfounded at what just happened.

“This…This doesn’t make sense! Even if he was hiding, that little traitor was in complete range of King of Kings!” Marcus babbled.

“We weren’t sure how your Stand worked 100%, so we decided to have a backup plan in case actually hearing the command didn’t matter.” With a point back to the tail wagging robot, Clay explained, “Tyler used Look at this Photograph to hide in a photo he had, which Blade Wolf kept clutched in his tail. After bursting in through the window, Blade Wolf flung the photo near your throne while your eyes were focused him. If you stopped him, Tyler would burst out to attack you, and since the inside of the photograph is another place entirely, Tyler was unaffected by any commands you could utter."

“This can’t be happening! I’m…I’m a king damn it! Let me defend my kingdom with honor!” Marcus pleaded.

“I think that option has long since passed,” Clay said, crossing his arms as Hannah Baker manifested next to him.

* * *

Hours of running, screaming, and fighting had passed over the school battlegrounds as the once noisy storm began to dissipate, and the crack of dawn sun light began cutting through the cloudy horizon. Raiden and Tony barely noticed the change in time, continuing to wage an almost two man war against the remainder of king Marcus’s forces. Tony was breathing ragged, yanking the second arrow that had pierced him in the last ten minutes from his thigh (the enemy caught on that Tony had some sort of ranged “ice magic” and decided to try and take him down at a safer distance).

Raiden was running low on both robot juice and his inner edge, which meant he wasn’t pulling anywhere near the amount of crazy starts he was doing at the start of the school yard clash.

“You holding up?” Tony asked the sword wielder at his back.

“Tsk, completely fine, just getting tired of saving you,” Raiden edged with crimson coating his body.

“Speaking of save,” Tony began, dodging out of the way of a sledgehammer slam before Fonzing the school berserker to death, “sure would be nice of Clay to hurry the hell up and get out here to tell us the king is dead.”

Raiden’s natural instinct was to be mean and broody by telling Tony that it was possible Clay got killed on his indoor mission. But the cyborg kept quiet and continued to outmaneuver his sword opponents.

Then, upon a nearby green grassy hill, with the first rays of morning sunshine illuminating it, a man on a white horse came over the horizon. The man sitting upon the luxurious white steed was smoking a cigarette and staring down at the battlefield with python eyes.

“Snake!?” Tony snaked at the arrival of the man.

Alongside the gruff man on his trusty steed, numerous fashionable, hip, highschoolers riding upon tigers lined up on both his left and right. Then came the obnoxious honks of many school buses, which then came screeching into the parking lots and grass lawns of the school grounds. The buses bore the symbol and banners of a frightening feline.

“Look!” one of Marcus’s knights yelled in disbelief.

Tony followed the armored finger back to the side of Snake, where a majestic white tiger had prowled up to roar next to the sneaky soldier. But then the greaser noticed that there was a crowned boy and girl riding the jungle cat.

“I-It’s Troy Bolton! King of East High!” a knight sputtered.

“And Queen Gabriella…Mother of tigers…” another stated in surprise.

The aforementioned king of the east raised his war spear and then pointed down toward the field of elephants and battle. “Riders of East High, charge!”

A chorus of tigers roared as they ran down the hill toward the waiting prey below. The knights, who were brave enough, raised their weapons and met the charge; turning into a fray screaming tigers and knights devoured like tuna in a can. Some tiger riders even used their agile cat mounts to scale the elephant chargers and feast upon their cumbersome trunks and throats. All the while, jocktroopers poured from the foreign school buses and started sweeping up their own enemies.

Cutting down an enemy or two on the way down, Snake galloped his new steed next to Tony and Raiden. “Kept you waiting, huh?”

“Kind of, yeah!” Tony said.

“Enough chat. Now that you’re here let’s finish this!” Raiden edged with a red eye, doing sword warm up movements.

* * *

But victory was not assured back up in the room of thrones for Clay and company. For Clay could only fire off a handful of good punches from Hannah Baker before loud stomping echoed into the room. With surprise of their own, Clay, Tyler, and Blade Wolf witnessed Zach charge in at inhuman speeds, immediately gunning for the nearest person, Tyler, and proceeding to pick the boy up and toss him out the nearby broken window like a sport disc.

“Tyler!” Clay yelled in flying body. “Blade Wolf-“

“On it,” Blade Wolf said, already dodging out of Zach’s reaching hands to leap out the window to catch the likely stunned falling nerd.

With only one target left to choose from, Zach glared at Clay and ran to tackle him. Hannah Baker moved in front of him to launch a barrage of flying fists at the mountain boy, but her phantom fists only crashed against Zach’s armored knuckles or hardened chest plate. The war chief actually managed to weave out of a few punches for a split second and gave a mean left hook to Hannah Baker’s side, which in turned gave Clay pain and made him stumble.

_“That hurt! But it was about on par with a sports player…Maybe his Stand is exclusively defense?”_ Clay wondered with battle in mind. But then another thought crossed it, “Zach, so you’re the one who brought in that enemy back up.”

“That-“ Marcus spat out the blood and teeth pooling in his mouth, “that’s r-right Jensen! Zach a-and his brutes have sworn loyalty to me! I let them cut class and forge their grades in exchange for their strength and service!”

Clay looked back to the heaving Zachary, who was looking at Hannah Baker with an odd expression.

Marcus managed to cackle through his pain, “And neither you, nor any of your friends, have any hope of beating Zach’s Stand! **Cage The Elephant!**”

“So is he part of the Metal Gear group or just another one of your servants?” Clay had to question, but still not taking his eyes off the lumbering bone covered fighter.

“Pfft, hah! Part of the group!? The only reason Zach is part of any of this is because he’s friend’s with Bryce and in my service! You think a brain dead oaf like him was chosen to join!?” Marcus laughed.

Letting out a roar, Zach suddenly ran at Clay and slammed down his right leg, which then caused the stone floor where the boy was just a moment prior to crack and nearly cave in. The war chief didn’t let up, opting to run at Clay who defended with Hannah Baker’s meaty fists.

_“The strength packed into that stomp was way stronger then the punch he dealt me earlier! How does his Stand work!?”_ Clay thought desperately, knowing a hit from an attack like the last one would break him instantly.

Doing little more than blocking and running away from him, Zach became enraged at the prolonging battle and roared, “Stop moving and let Zach crush your skull!!!”

Perhaps out of desperation, Clay tried to plead with the boy, “Zach stop! Can’t you see you’re being used!? We don’t have to fight!”

Zach grunted and ignored Clay, trying to cave his head in with his scary bone gauntlets. Since fighting was still very much on the table, Clay decided to counter attack by going for the boy’s legs since one was the one that dealt the stone shattering damage earlier. That’s when Clay noticed, amidst his flurry of Baker punches, he saw Zach was trying to keep his left leg safe. And one a punch did connect with it, Zach grimaced slightly.

Clay felt as if he found the weak point, but he couldn’t act with that new info right away, because Zach mimicked his earlier stomp, and much like last time in left a huge indent in the stone floor. After the big stomp there was a delay in Zach’s movements, so Clay took the chance and moved Hannah Baker in for the kill, launching another barrage of punches upon Zach’s left leg.

But to clay’s shock it didn’t seem to faze the boy at all. _“Was he…just pretending earlier…? No…that can’t be it! Zach’s not smart enough for that!” _Clay assured himself before Zach charged in again.

Like being on the losing end of a boxing match, Clay could do little but defend with Hannah Baker as Zach chased him around the room and backed him into a corner.

“Zach please-“

“NO! NO WORDS! Zach’s going to shove your teeth down your throat so you’ll stop making noises!!!” Zach screamed, trying his best to make his previous statement come true. It was in those angered moments of blocking and running that Zach surprisingly did the talking. “You make Zach sneak out past bedtime! Listen to noisy annoying photo nerds! And now you have Zach beating up nice lady! Zach hate you!!!”

_“Beat up nice lady?”_ Clay was confused, Tyler wasn’t that girly looking. But then it hit him (a revelation as well as a lucky shot from Zach). The only “lady” in the room was Clay’s Stand, Hannah Baker. _“Nice lady…”_

Once again it looked like Zach was going for another stomp, but it seemed Zach had some knowledge space in his mind for fighting education. Clay broke out in a cold sweat as he watched Zach stomp the floor, but this time, keep his momentum going as he circled around and delivered a forceful punch to the Clayster’s back.

Groaning in pain after being sent flying forward and along the cracked stone floor, Clay looked up to see Zach stomping toward him. “Zach, stop, please! Marcus and the other Metal Gear conspirators are using you! We’re trying to stop them!”

“Marcus gives Zach A+ on spelling tests, and Bryce throws ball with Zach! They nice!” Zach said.

“But were you friends with Hannah too?” Clay questioned, fact unknown.

Zach suddenly tensed, a dour expression his face. “Hannah…Hannah said nice things to Zach. She told him his hair nice, and that he was good at drawing bunnies.”

_“What the fuck is even the context of what he’s saying?”_ Clay thought with a bemused expression, which he shook off. “Right, I was friends with Hannah too, and it’s Marcus and his friends fault that she’s gone!”

Zach looked completely awestruck. “That not true! You say words that sound like sugar but then you tell lies! Marcus tell Zach that Hannah go to new school!”

“Oh yeah, where?” Clay questioned.

“Six feet under!” Zach innocently answered.

Clay sighed, “Zach they lied to you. She’s dead, they killed her…”

“Not true!” yelled Marcus, who had finally managed to get up and stumble over to the exchange. Dragging his limp leg, Marcus continued, “He’s the liar, now stop wasting time you bumbling mountain peasant and kill him!”

Zach’s dark overpowering aura spiked up as he looked back to Clay, his fists at the ready. Even if the baby Stand user used Hannah Baker to defend, the shoddily constructed stone floor likely couldn’t take another massive strike from Zach, and would finally give way and crush him. And deep down a part of Clay felt a small amount of sympathy for Zach, as he had prior for Tyler. Zach was essentially just a big dumb kid. And while Clay didn’t know all the facts about his supposed friendship with Hannah, or if it was even true, if it was he couldn’t just kill him.

So instead of sending out a Stand attack, Clay spoke, “Zach please…You have to believe me. I was friends with Hannah, and she wouldn’t want you doing this! And besides I…” Clay looked for words that could appeal to the giant, “I want to be your friend too!”

At those words Zach suddenly completely stopped, staring down in confusion at Clay. No…not confusion. It was some sort of look of remembrance. And Zach did remember, back to freshman year.

* * *

_Zach had just finished a swell day of class with Hannah, when all of a sudden as he walked down the crowded halls he noticed he was stumbling around and didn’t know why. After the twelfth time he fell down an unnecessary flight of steps, at the bottom waited a young lad._

_Waiting for Zach to first get up, the lad named Clay then said with a point down, “Hey Zach, your shoe’s untied.”_

_Staring down at his foot in despair, Zach fidgeted with embarrassment and said, “Zach…Zach not know how tie shoe…”_

_Clay knelt down to the big boy’s foot and said, “Well I can help you.” And then by magic from the taller boy’s eyes his shoe was tied nice and sturdy. “There.”_

_Back on his feet, Zach looked at the boy with an appreciative smile. “Thanks Clay! You nice!”_

_“Uh, no problem Zach?” Clay chuckled at the seemingly overabundant gratitude before heading off to his next class._

* * *

Back in present, Zach’s face was now wet with a single tear that rolled down his cheek, recalling the nicest thing anyone had ever bothered to do for him without wanting something in return, like breaking a teacher’s spine or opening a really challenging jar. “Zach…Zach love Clay!” Zach cried with simple innocence.

“Excuse me!?” Marcus scoffed. “What in god’s name are you waiting for!? Hurry up and kill him you simpleton!”

And that would be the last command Marcus could ever give. Because directly after he finished that sentence, Zach turned on his heel to spin around a grab the dark king by the skull. Then discharging one of the powerful attacks Clay had seen earlier, this time channeled into his right arm, Zach smashed Marcus’s head into the wall; completely caving it in along with the stone wall.

With the king dead, Zach’s Stand armor vanished, and he turned around to offer a non-bloody hand to Clay. Accepting it, Clay got up with a sincere, “Thank you Zach.”

“It okay. Zach just forget things sometimes…he forget you nice, and that Hannah talk nice about you sometimes. And…Zach’s mom said to be nice to pretty ladies, so Zach nice to Hannah even when she was meanie!”

Clay smiled in forgiveness before frowning in pain and taking a breather.

“Clay okay?” Zach asked.

“Yeah…you…just really gave me a few good hits in that fight,” Clay exhaled, taking in the pain of a few cracked bones. “You gotta tell me how your Stand works later.”

Zach nodded fast with a smile. “Can do! Zach memorized how Cage The Elephant works so Zach can beat people up real good!”

“Great. Now would you mind helping me for a bit?”

The war chief just nodded again, and rather than hold Clay up like the boy had expected, Zach instead effortlessly lifted Clay like a sack of potatoes and began carrying him out of the school keep. As Zach lumbered through the now quiet school corridors Clay finally noticed it was now morning and that the sound of swords and bullets clashing outside had finally settled. Walking past the broken down school entrance doors, and onto the front lawn, Zach and Clay saw that the battle was finally over. All who had not fled the school had been killed or were being rounded up by the weird foreign sports team on the field. Then Clay noticed a gathering of individuals discussing amongst themselves. It was all of his comrades! Minus head jocktrooper and Otacon.

“Alright, alright, enough talk! We need to get in there and help-“ the voice in urgence was Tony, who turned around to where everyone else was looking to see the towering Zach carrying Clay.

“Zach bring Clay!” the big boy shouted as he tossed Clay onto the ground haphazardly.

“Ouch!”

Tony rushed to his friend's side and dropped down onto his slightly burnt knee with a grimace. “Clay, you okay!?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine I only got hit a few times.”

Snake, sitting cross legged on his horse and smoking a cigarette, asked “Did you kill the king?”

“Nice to see you too Snake,” Clay said, sitting up. “Yeah, I killed him. With a bit of help.” Clay gave a nod back to the war chief shuffling over to the rest of the group.

Everyone, except Snake, was instantly suspicious and unsure of Zach’s post presence of the battle. Tyler was the first to voice it, “Wait a minute. He threw me out a fucking window and then he _helped_ you kill Marcus?”

“Zach was just confused on who his real enemies were,” Clay tried to explain with a simplicity that could resonate with Zach’s heart.

“Zach sorry!” the big boy apologized in general to the group.

Getting his pal up and looking suspiciously at the huge Stand user, Tony questioned, “So what is he just part of the team now? Simple as that? I mean we let Tyler in, but he’s mostly harmless.”

“Hey…I helped beat up Marcus…” Tyler whimpered with a kick of a pebble.

Raiden narrowed his eye at the now ex-war chief and relented with an exhale. “Well…It wouldn’t be the first time I teamed up with someone who tried to kill me,” he stated, looking over to Blade Wolf, who just stared back with a wagging tail.

“Your choice Clay,” Snake said, passing his mostly finished cigarette to his steed to smoke.

The man and pupil shared a look using their peepers. A silent exchange that Clay managed to understand easily. He knew Snake was putting the responsibility that came with the choice upon him. Taking that into account, Clay said, “I think Zach would be a valuable asset to the team. And I’m sure he’d like to get revenge for Hannah too. Right Zach?”

Zach nodded rapidly. “Zach be good boy for Snake man!”

After exchanging a small smile with Zach, Clay looked back to Snake. “So where the hell were you?”

“Getting the cavalry,” Snake stated, a sweeping arm gesturing to the foreign sports team. “I called in the riders of East High. Their king and queen were quite pleased to hear someone was trying to topple their biggest rival.”

“That’s all it took to get them to help you?” Clay questioned.

“Course not,” Snake said, flicking the horse’s finished tobacco stick at Clay’s eye. “Back in the day when I…..had more musical non-soldier related dreams… I tried to be the star of my own musical.”

“Fucking what?” Tony muttered with a raised brow.

Ignoring the Tonester’s comment Snake carried on, “Anyway that obviously didn’t happen. So I helped another young man achieve his musical dreams.”

“That you did,” said the voice of a young man.

The young man voice came from the foreign king himself as he came riding up to the group on his snow white tiger. Troy Bolton and his queen dismounted, as did Snake, and the three stood with each other full of smiles and victory. Blade Wolf meanwhile was circling and using his sniffing function to investigate the white jungle feline, which was doing the same to him.

“Thank you again for your help,” Snake thanked the two.

“Think nothing of it my friend. Not only did you set me on the path to musicals, kinghood, and,” he took the crowned woman’s hand into his own, “helped me find my queen. You’ve now gave me the chance to see my rival’s army destroyed. If anything, I believe I still owe you greatly," finished Troy with past deeds on his words.

“I thought our school was the only one doing this crazy bullshit, is this just the thing now? To turn highschools into monarchies?” Tyler whispered in sheer bafflement.

The well-built tall basketball king’s eyes then glanced over to Clay with a renewed grin. “And you are the one who directly deposed the dark king. For that I thank you,” he thanked with a bow.

"Eh, it was nothing," Clay humbly stated (even though it was very much so not nothing, on account of the numerous ways he could have easily been murdered in there).

“Also, until we can find a suitable ruler for this schoolground, I will act as its new king," Troy decreed.

“But what of East High?” Snake asked with a surprising amount of concern in his voice.

Troy simply chuckled, “My queen can take care of our people while I am cleaning up the mess Marcus has left behind.”

Queen Gabriella modestly gave a royal bow of her head to the group. The graceful female musical lead then walked back over to her majestic striped cat; that was batting playfully at Blade Wolf’s tail, which he was intentionally dangling in front of the large cat’s face.

“Alright…So what now?” Clay questioned for the 2nd time in the past five minutes.

King Troy put his hands on his fine hips as he looked over the battlefield. “Well my first immediate action is to have my men get your jocks back to your base, and these greaser fellows back home, safe and sound.”

“We appreciate the help,” Snake said with grace for the king.

Tony stretched and breathed a sigh of relief, grinning at the Clayboy next to him before throwing an arm around his neck. “Man we actually did it! We dethroned Marcus!”

“Yeah, we did,” Clay said with a smile of his own, but couldn’t be quite as cheerful knowing that they also suffered losses. But he didn’t let it get to him. That was just the nature of war.

“Alright, since the injured are getting a lift and your bike got wrecked, let’s get my car and head home!” cheered Tony, already looking forward to the victory party.

Raiden snapped to attention at the mention of the red hotrod. A short walk later and…

“NOOOOOO! YOU SONS OF BITCHES!” Tony screamed out in rage as he punched the soil in front of his crunched flipped car. “Who did this!?”

Raiden raised a finger. “Well if we’re going by technicalities, Ot-“

“Zach flip it!” Zach boldly shouted. “The car yelled at Zach!”

Clay leaned in, seeing Tony already giving the giant boy the most horrible piercing stare he had ever seen. “Hey Tony, I think maybe we should just-“

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Tony screamed, running at and jumping onto Zach, who took it like a gym beating bag.

Snake, now standing completely uncaring next to Raiden, asked, “Were you going to say Otacon?”

“Well he did drive the car at him.”

Snake’s eyes flicked back to the boy rough and tumble happening on the ground. “He just joined the team and he’s already covering for his brother in arms. A truly rough diamond that one,” Snake said with an almost prideful tone looking to the large warrior getting punched on the ground.

All Clay could do at this point was stand back and stare at his comrades. A Snake, a greaser, a photo nerd, two robots, a currently absent nerd, and now a hulking ball player. Not to mention he and these people just overthrew a kingdom. Clay took in the obvious fact that life was likely going to be this bizarre for a good long while. Especially since they still had a few more Metal Gear conspirators to go.

* * *

And one of those conspirators, perhaps the biggest and baddest of the bunch, Porter, stood on a nearby hill crafted for overlooking things in order to overlook the now calm battlefield. Arms crossed and letting out a sigh of disappointment, Porter said, "So even Marcus has failed. I suppose this new Stand user is just that strong, or Snake is an even bigger nuisance than we thought. Either way, once the project is complete it won't matter. We'll all be at _his_ mercy." 

_To Be Continued_ _\--->_


	10. The End on the Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the siege of Liberty High, Clay and co meet with a baby revolver twirler, whom has much information to share with them. And unbeknownst to them an old adversary gets back into the action.

On the day after the battle for Liberty High had ended, king Troy had kept his word and used his men and buses to ensure all greasers returned to their perspective side of the tracks, and that the jocktroopers returned to Mother Base. Otacon and head jocktrooper, who had met up with them there, immediately got to work bandaging and balming everyone’s injuries; and the two were grateful to hear from Raiden that their large new teammate had covered for them with the car incident.

Tony’s hotrod was dragged back to Mother Base by an apologetic Zachary and a few buff jocktroopers, whom were accompanied by a detachment of greaser mechanics that agreed to try their damndest in fixing Tony’s crunched car.

All the way back home Clay was doing the comforting for a change, wrapping an arm around the downtrodden Tony and making promises of Coke beverages.

So once everyone was finally back at Mother Base a proper celebration was held. King Troy and his athletic feline riders handled most of the preparation in gratitude for their fellow jocktrooper’s courage in the Liberty High siege. And once head jocktrooper (sensually) healed Clay, the baby Stand user joined his friends for barbeque and Coke (which was mostly being hogged by a still sad Tony). The only two grand guests absent were Blade Wolf and Raiden, who went home for repairs and maintenance.

Night had descended once more upon the planet, and the revelry in the Motherly Base was beginning to die down, especially after the incredibly bizarre and out of nowhere duet Troy and Snake put on before the kind boy king departed. Clay found himself sitting with Tony in the living room; a can of Pepsi proudly in his hand because he felt he had earned it and didn’t give a damn if Tony chastised him for it.

“Welp onto the next one I guess,” sighed Clay, drinking his beverage and knowledge of future struggles with Stand users.

“Yep. This won’t be over until we’ve completely crushed this Metal Gear development project and-“ Tony abruptly got out of his seat “you know maybe I should go out to check on the boys and see how the repairs are going.”

Clay grabbed his pal’s arm and pulled him back down. “Tony. They said to stop bothering them. You’ve checked 22 other times. I’m sure they can fix it,” Clay reassured the car worried grease soul.

“Right…” Tony relented. “But I’m not going to forget that SOMEONE owes me a very high quantity of Coke and hair products!” Tony spoke loudly so that a certain mountain boy in the kitchen could hear.

“Zach sorry!” the certain mountain called back.

“Since we don’t have an immediate lead on the next Metal Gear conspirator I guess we’ll just have to go to school tomorrow huh?” Clay changed topics.

“Seems that way,” shrugged Tony.

“We’ll need more info soon,” Snake suddenly said, slithering into the room with a signed basketball from king Troy. “If the Metal Gear is completed we, this town, and this entire country will be in serious trouble.”

Tony crossed his arms in thought. “You know I’ve been thinking. Why are they building this Metal Gear? Is it really just for random chaos or domination?”

Snake was silent for a moment, speaking only through slippery eye movements. “I guess we’ll have to find that out once we know who exactly started this project. I have suspicions but…nevermind.”

The two boy Stand users just shared a look before moving on to other matters. Like eating the chicken nugget dinner prepared by Zach (the only meal he knows how to cook by himself) as a further apology to those he beat/tried to beat up. And so, with battle fatigue on their muscles, and nuggets of chicken in their stomachs, the boys of Mother Base settled down for sleep so that they could attend schoolage the next day. Except Clay. He was not allowed to settle. Snake gave him a CQC night time punch for extra measure.

* * *

The next day, in the wee hours of the morn, well before even Clay and the Tonester had awoken; another lad in town was awakening. Unlike the other two Mother stationed boys however, this lad did not awaken in a bed or on the floor of a kitchen. This young man’s eyes blinked in a confused sleepy haze as he took in his surrounding; being that of a dirty alleyway.

“Where the fuck am I!?” Justin ascended into a yell as he sat up from a bed of cardboard and newspaper.

“Coach! You’re finally awake!” a youthful voice said full of surprise and delight. “JJ! He’s awake!”

Sitting up against the side of a brick and mortar building, Justin looked around to see he was in some sort of back-alley encampment of children armed with weaponry. And then a boy, a tad older looking than the rest, dressed like some sort of street ruffian, sauntered over to Justin.

It took Justin’s recognition skills a minute to kick in before he recognized the boy. “Hey…You’re that kid I rescued from Mr. Jensen’s plantation the other night! Actually, you’re all the kids from that night, right?” Justin asked to affirm from the other children around.

“That’s right coach,” the head boy answered, “and we still thank you deeply for granting us our freedom. We were born without names, and so, I’ve dubbed myself JJ.”

“Oh, radical little dude-wait!” Justin snapped to realization. “Okay, first of all, where the hell am I!? Second, coach?”

“Do you not remember what happened coach?” JJ asked.

“Happened…” Justin muttered as he rubbed his bandaged head. “Oh fuck! Clay! I was fighting Clay and he…” Justin trailed off in past pummeling. _“That little fucker beat the shit out of me with his Stand. A Stand that looked like Hannah! What a fucking creep…”_

“A ball playing boy by the name of Bryce dropped you off at the hospital. Once news spread of the local master ball handler being severely beat and assaulted, me and the rest of the posse rushed over to see you.”

“Alright, so what the hell am I doing in an alley!?”

“You were looking pretty bad coach. But neither your mother nor your sports team was willing to pay for any treatment.”

Justin wasn’t necessarily surprised to hear that piece of information, but it still hurt nonetheless. Of course he wouldn’t let that show in front of the kids.

JJ continued with the hospital drama, “So we demanded that the finest doctors in the land come to your aid! And some did! They healed you up faster than any of us thought possible!”

“They did this for free?”

“No there was an incredibly hefty bill,” JJ explained like money was no big deal.

Knowing that he was in the company of orphans, Justin had to ask, “So…how’d ya pay for it?”

“We didn’t.”

“What!?”

“You were pretty much fixed, but we knew you’d suffer through incredible pain during your healing process. So we stole a tremendous amount of morphine from the hospital and escaped with you. We brought you here and have been pumping the stuff into while you’ve recovered,” JJ explained with bill dodging.

Justin groaned, “And why do I feel so weak?”

“You may not be 100% healed yet,” JJ suggested.

“Or it’s because you’ve become highly addicted to heroin!” the little boy who had been by Justin’s side earlier suggested.

“Excuse me…?” Justin asked, slowly processing how fucked up this day was.

JJ decided to explain for the younger boy, “We didn’t know how much to give you. So we just pumped in what seemed like a good amount.”

“No, no, no, hold up,” Justin waved his hand and then pointed, “that kid said heroin, I thought it was hospital morphine!?”

“It was both. When we realized we were running low on morphine we decided to sell the rest to the Russian mob. We then used the money to buy heroin, which we then gave most to you and sold the rest to tweakers so we could buy ammunition for our guns, which we then used to rob the local yakuza of their heroin, and repeated this cycle,” JJ explained. “We’re heroin dealers now by the way. Only until you get better and we have enough money to start our own NBA team of course,” the young drug dealer said reassured of a cleaner future.

Justin just stared for a moment, and then slowly slinked back down onto his cardboard bed, hands on his face. “I don’t even wanna ask…how long have I been here?”

The children all looked back and forth to one another before JJ threw out an estimate, “Like…maybe a week or two?”

A look of horror washed over Justin’s face, and he didn’t waste a second more before he shot to his feet with a minor wince of pain.

“Coach! You can’t leave yet, you need more rest!” a child urged.

“To hell with that! Jessica’s been on her own in that fucked up school for more than a week without my help. While I’ve been sleeping in a dirty alley, getting pumped full of heroin.”

“Which you’re still addicted to,” JJ inputted, tossing Justin a syringe. “First one’s free. Sorry coach, hate to be cutthroat but now that you’re up and moving we can’t have you sampling the merchandise.”

Justin wanted to immediately cast aside the drug in anger, but feeling the pangs of withdrawal already, he decided to pocket the product. “Look, thanks for all your help kids but I have someone I care about that I need to check on. And the rest of my team for that matter.”

JJ whistled and gave some sort of elaborate hand gesture to the other children. Upon seeing this sign some of the youths began grabbing weaponry and tossing it to certain child drug pushers. “Then me and some of the boys will be your team for now coach,” JJ stated, locking and loading his Russian crafted AK-47, “it’s dangerous out there.”

“Kid…You’re like, what? 11?” Justin guessed.

“I’m 12, thank you very much,” the boy titled JJ, corrected with sass.

“Ok, 12, whatever. Look, thanks for all your help, but I’d call us even now. I don’t need a pack of kids with guns following me around. Especially not into a school…” Justin trailed off and getting a shudder, realizing how bad that would look to people who had no context to his very bizarre predicament.

“No can do coach,” JJ firmly denied.

“Again, why are you calling me that?”

JJ looked deathly serious as he answered, “Because we all agreed we shall never again have a ‘master’, and we won’t be gun wielding heroin peddlers forever, so we can’t call you boss.”

“So you’re our coach!” a child rang in.

“Yeah basketball guy!” another youngster in the group commented, likely not even knowing the name of his savior.

Justin rubbed his temples. “Ugh, alright, fuck it. Call me whatever and follow me if you want, just don’t cause me trouble.”

“Of course coach,” JJ said with a nod of ball brohood understanding.

So with a pack of about eight armed child drug dealers, Justin strolled out of the alley checking his person for his cellphone, which he did not find and presumed it must’ve been destroyed during the fight with Clay. Staggering through the street and fighting off pangs of pain, Justin began to remove the stray bandages on his body with only one thing on his mind as he pressed on. Jessica.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Mother Base boys had awakened and got to their usual morning routines. For Clay this meant training with Snake. He was supposed to be training regularly with Riaden as well, but the man and his dog were still not back from the cybernetic repairs. Tyler made sure his camera was as spick and span as his undergarments. Tony drank some breakfast Coke; more so than usual because he was waiting with bated breath like a father in the pregnancy ward, as the grease mechanics were about to give the diagnosis on his vehicle. And head jocktrooper made pancakes while the rest of his jock brothers tried to wrangle up Zach, whom had been playing with forks and electrical outlets.

Timing for school was upon the boys, so Tony slowly walked outside to enter the garage where the mechanical grease men had been tinkering away at his ride. Clay was there too for emotional support, because despite the fact he had been the one training all morning, Tony was the one that looked like he was about to pass out.

Soon enough the rectangular door rolled up and inching out came Tony’s car! That was fine. For the most part. It didn’t look exactly the same, but considering the front had previously looked like it had been in a head on collision it was looking pretty alright.

“You replaced the parts?” Tony spoke low as he examined his car. Although from his pal’s perspective it looked more like the Coke addict was examining a corpse.

One of the grease wrench wielders threw back on his leather coat and said, “Of course! Thing was crunched to hell! Had to Frankenstein it together with the parts we could get from our workshops. But we did our best to replicate it.”

Tony dropped to his knees. “I guess it’ll have to do…”

Clay dropped down next to him. “Geez man, never seen you so bummed out.” The Clayboy patted his friend’s leather wrapped shoulder reassuringly. “Hey when this is all over I’m sure we can focus on making your car look exactly like it used to!”

Tony, realizing he was probably lookin’ like a bitch in front of Clay, got ahold of himself and got back up alongside his friend. “Yeah. Your right. You gotta help me though. Risked my life and car for you assholes at that castle,” Tony said, mostly in playfulness.

But Clay took the offer seriously. “Well I barely know shit about cars, but sure, I’ll help.”

Tony quietly laughed as he hopped into his repaired vehicle, feeling a little less pessimistic about the situation as Clay hopped in with him.

From there the boys pulled around to the front in order to give Tyler and Zach a lift to the school house. Zach curled up and took up two seats in the back while Tyler sat uncomfortably in the remaining one. As Tony did the usual and went well above the recommended speed parameters, Clay turned back to get info.

“So Zach you never monologued to us what your stand does.”

“Yeah Zach, tell us about it. I want the details of how you fucked up my car,” Tony said with a stiff smile, clear venom in his words.

“Sure thing!” Zach enthused. “Zach’s Stand protects Zach from most damage and stores up enemy’s power from punches, kicks, and other attack stuff into one of Zach’s arms or legs!”

“So that’s what you were doing while we fought,” Clay understood. “So every time I attacked you, you stored that power into one of your legs?”

“Yeah!” Zach affirmed proudly. “But when Zach store power, one of Zach’s other arms or legs is weak!”

“And that’s what happened when I hit your other leg,” Clay recounted with yester times battle.

“But can you just not store power instead? If you can, that means you just have an impressive armor Stand that protects everything but you head, right?” asked Tyler.

Zach shook his head side-to-side. “If Zach stop storing power, then Zach’s Stand stops being as tough and Zach can’t hit as hard!”

“So basically if he’s not using his Stand’s main ability his armor becomes weaker overall and his attack power goes down,” Tony puzzled out the big boy’s words.

“Well your Stand definitely seems impressive to me Zach,” Clay complimented his new recruit, “glad to have you on the team.”

Zach got a tear in his eye much like whenever he watched the ending to The Goonies and said, “Zach do good for Clay!”

The good deeds of Zachary began immediately once the car had parked at the destination of learning. Zach nearly ripped off Tony’s passenger side door as he picked up Clay like a child a carried him into school, a confused Tyler and disgruntled Tony quick on the trial behind them.

Once Clay got the eager beaver (named Zach, who was far too big to be realistically compared to a beaver) to set him down and let him walk upon his own two feet, the four boys took notice that Troy’s own red themed jocktroopers were already getting to work fixing the school. Relief aid was being given to those who had survived the Liberty High battle but still needed to show up to school to get an educated estimate of a passable highschool education.

“Looks like Troy kept his word, he’s doing his best to fix Marcus’s mess,” Clay stated with eyes sweeping the school repairs.

“Maybe these new jock soldiers won’t bully me so much…!” Tyler said hopefully.

“Sup nerd!” a stray voice from a near hall called, followed by the impact of football slamming into Tyler’s head and knocking him to the floor.

“….Well….it’s a start….Bryce’s jocks would’ve just shot me in the shins,” Tyler mumbled on the floor.

“Speaking of, I know why Marcus’s knights are making themselves scarce, but where’s Bryce’s guys? They came back yesterday, right?” Clay questioned.

Tony looked at Clay like that was a dumb question, because from the grease boy’s point of view, it was. “Troy’s army are like knights and jocktroopers rolled into one. Jocks are constantly fighting, murdering, and switching sides from combative sports duels. And Troy basically just came along and stole Bryce’s home base, so they’re probably hiding out to avoid getting killed or assimilated by Troy’s jocks, like what happened with Zach’s guys.”

“I see,” Clay saw, like that was a perfectly reasonably answer.

At that very moment of seeing, Clay saw another thing. That being a gaggle of Tony’s usual fangirls all crowding around the slick greaser. “Tony! We heard you were the one who helped get rid of Marcus and Bolan!” the head of the group excitedly said. “You’re super cool and awesome Tony!” cheered the girl behind the first. “The new king guy should totally reward you for helping!” commented another, as the girls began pulling him away.

Tyler looked on with obvious jealousy. “Man why does Tony get all the girls? I mean people must know we were there too right?”

“Dude why don’t you just date a girl in the photography club?” Clay suggested with love advice.

“First of all, my standards are higher than that,” Tyler began, immediately earning an eye roll from Clay. “And secondly, that’d be kind of hard now. You know, on account of the fact that most of the club is dead.”

“Oh…Oh shit you’re right. Tyler I’m sorr-“

Tyler waved his hand, looking away and seeming not to mind. “It’s fine, they knew the risks. And we took those risks so that clubs like mine could have hope for a better future in this place,” Tyler stated with hope. Clay felt a bit more respect for his fairly socially awkward classmate than he had before. But the moment was deflated a little when Tyler followed up with, “And y’know because Marcus was literally going to kill us all.”

“True,” Clay sighed.

“Zach crushed king’s skull!” Zach cheered, wanting to be part of the conversation.

The three boys carried on down the cluttered halls until it was time for Clay to split off from the group in order to attend his historical algebra class. But as the halls began to clear from students going off to attend lectures, Clay found himself alone in one of the numerous needlessly long halls. And just as Clay began to ponder what purpose spacing out the classrooms 25 ft. apart could serve other than fucking with the students, Clay heard a clang overhead.

Descending from the surprisingly modern vent was Sheri, spinning a revolver.

“Sheri!” Clay leapt back in surprise.

Sheri posed as she spun her gun. “So you guys managed to take out Marcus? You’re pretty good.”

“So I’ve been told…” Clay flatly said. “Did you want something?”

“Want? No. I-damn it!’ Sheri cursed as the revolver flung off her finger. Clumsily picking it back up she muttered, “Master is gonna be so disappointed if I don’t have this down by the end of the week…”

“What?” Clay what’ed.

“Nothing,” Sheri said, quickly holstering her pistol. Giving a little cough she carried on, “Anyway, I’m here to give you some info.”

“Info…?” Clay looked her up and down, only now noticing how familiar her professional revolver twirler uniform was. Then it clicked. “Wait do you know…what was his name…Ocelot!?”

Sheri sighed, not too jazzed that Clay would utter such a name so casually, “Yes, he’s my master. And, again, I’m here to pass on some information.”

Clay was still taken aback by Sheri’s sudden appearance and apparent apprenticehood to a gun spinning jungle cat, but as Snake taught him during one of their morning sparring lessons, info is fuel for the fists. So Clay asked, “What information?”

Sheri got in close real quick and shoved a slip of paper into the baby Stand user’s hand. “That’s the location of Ryan’s lab. With luck he should be there too.”

“Ryan’s a Metal Gear conspirator? Wait…yeah that checks out,” Clay thought about previous times the poet was an active douche. “But wait a lab?”

“You sure do love questions Clay,” Sheri side commented annoyed before answering, “Yes, a lab. Ryan is a poet but he also knows quite a bit about robotics,” Sheri explained, holding up a framed photograph of Ryan at the local robot fight club championship before tossing it aside. “The chances of the new Metal Gear being stored at his lab are next to zero, but you might be able to get him to cough up the location of where they are keeping it.”

“And why are you giving me this? Why are you and Ocelot helping us?” Clay tossed out the questions in his mouth.

“I just do as my master commands. I assume he’s helping because it’d be inconvenient for him if someone went around causing unprecedented chaos with a giant Metal Gear,” Sheri threw back an answer. “Honestly Clay, I know as much about this Metal Gear as you do. If my master knows the puppeteer’s true goals for creating such a thing he hasn’t shared that knowledge with me. All I can tell you for certain is that Ryan is helping to build it.”

Clay looked at the address in his palm before looking back up to the female youth in befuzzlement. “I’m still confused, you’re helping us, and you know where Ryan is, so why don’t you just go get the info yourself?”

“My master forbade it, said it’d be too dangerous by myself.”

“Then why didn’t he go, or go with you?” Clay furtherly questioned.

Sheri sighed with self-pity, “I wish I knew…I’m still in training though so it makes sense that I wouldn’t be able to understand the master’s superior planning and mind games.”

“I think you’re giving this guy way too much credit…” Clay disbelievingly whispered.

“But,” Sheri suddenly spoke up again as she looked directly at Clay, “he did say I was allowed to help you on this mission. If I so choose.”

“And…do you?”

“If you want my help,” Sheri presented the offer with crossed arms and a feline stare.

“Well sure, I guess? I mean we’d need to talk to Snake about it-“

“Got it. Then I’ll meet you at Mother Base later,” Sheri understood, already crawling back up the walls to the ceiling vent.

“You know where it is?”

“Of course I do. Later Clay,” the new born female revolver enthusiast said with parting words as she scurried through the ventilation systems.

Looking back down to the crumpled paper in his hand one last time Clay pocketed it and knew he’d have to inform the other boys about this sudden development at the appointed lunch hour.

* * *

Elsewhere, Justin was still strolling as normally as he could down the less traveled street ways of town. He would be sprinting for the school house, but the pangs of withdrawal were still gnawing at him. Speaking of the matter, it was around this time another child following him began jumping up and down in earnest.

“Please coach! Just take the heroin! We need to gradually wean you off it!” he exclaimed.

“He’s right, you’re strong coach, but you can’t kick this addiction cold turkey,” JJ followed up with child wisdom.

“You shouldn’t have gotten me addicted in the first place!” Justin snapped.

JJ glanced away. “We just didn’t want to see you in pain coach.”

Justin sighed, “It’s fine. I’ll focus on kicking this thing after I know Jessica is okay. Hell she can probably help me; christ knows she’s got more willpower than me.”

“Who is this Jessica woman?” JJ inquired.

“Someone real special. She’s always been there for me when I felt like shit, or when I…had trouble at home. I’ve failed in the past, too many damn times in fact, but since shit has gotten crazier around here I’ve vowed to always be there to help her like she’s done for me.” The children noticed their hero getting a far off look in his eyes. “It’s why I feel so fucking awful…I’ve been gone this whole damn time.”

JJ patted his coach’s back. “Again, sorry we had to kidnap you from the hospital, but you’ll see your lady friend soon enough coach.”

“Thanks JJ,” Justin thanked the youth.

“Ooh, is Jessica a ball master like you coach!?” a child enthused with question.

Even Justin couldn’t hide his slight compassion for the boy’s wonderment. “Heh, no she’s…” he trailed off thinking of her military training and school yard extortion rackets, “she uh, she’s a real strong lady, I’ll say that.”

Some of the kids ooo’d and ahh’d at that, believing such high praise from their coach meant this Jessica was indeed a tough lady. Justin continued his stroll, rolling the drug loaded needle within his letterman jacket’s pocket with his hand, focusing on sharing more tid bids of information about him and Jessica. Through their idle chats whilst walking, Justin began to feel a kinship with the wayward orphans, perhaps because he had an unpleasant childhood as well.

* * *

Back on campus, Clay, Tyler, Zach, and the Tonester had all met up for lunch at the local banquet hall of noon time eatery (the lunchroom). Clay brought Zach and Tyler to his and Tony’s usual table, even though king Troy offered the gentlemen a place at his long kingly dining table. Not wanting to trouble the king, who already had enough on his plate, Clay decided he’d talk with the group at the table where none would bother them. Except the occasional flock of Tony’s groupies.

“Zach gets to sit at the grown up table!” Zach cheered, devouring his raw mutton.

“Yeah, congrats,” Tony lazily congratulated the loud eater before flicking his looking direction back to Clay. “So what’s this thing you wanted to tell us about?”

“This,” Clay said, holding up the parchment received from Ocelot’s disciple. “Sheri gave this to me at the start of the day; apparently it’s the location of Ryan’s lab.”

Tony took the paper to examine it while Tyler questioned, “Wait, Sheri gave you this?”

Clay nodded. “Apparently she’s working for Ocelot. They want to help us bring down the Metal Gear construction group.”

Still looking at the paper, Tony clicked his Coke slick tongue, “What game is Ocelot playing with us?”

“Why does he have to be playing a game?” Tyler asked. “Can’t he just want to stop some shady person/people from having access to a giant death robot?”

“Raiden tiny death robot!” Zach interjected between bites of lunch meat.

Ignoring the gentle brute, Tony answered, “Look, Snake’s told me some stories about that guy, and he’s always up to something. It’d have to be something major if he was actually just straightforward with us, but I don’t think one simple Metal Gear project is enough for that.” Tony tossed the paper back to Clay. “But that info checks out I guess. That’s Ryan’s address.”

“And how do you know that?” Tyler asked, just feeling full of questions today.

“Went there once or twice when we dated,” Tony explained nonchalantly.

Clay spat out the Pepsi filling his mouth. “Wait, what!? You dated Ryan?! Also, you’re gay!?”

Tony looked at Clay with a mix of confusion and amusement. “Of course I’m gay, everyone knows that.”

“I didn’t know that!” Clay’s thoughts immediately turned to Tony’s groupies, “Yeah I don’t think a lot of people know that!”

“Is that why you and Ryan hung out so much during freshman year?” Tyler slammed another question on the table for Tony to answer.

“Uh, yeah. What did you think we were friends or something?” Tony chuckled.

“…Maybe,” Clay admitted.

Tony laughed again, “Yeah, no. In all honesty I did it mostly just to get him to do my English homework.”

Tyler’s voice previously full of questions was now filled with a tinge of disapproval, “Hey wait a minute…Then why the hell do you always have a pack of girls fawning over you!?”

Tony shrugged, “I just don’t have the heart to tell ‘em. And sometimes they bring me hair gel and leather jacket presents, so there’s that.”

Clay waved his hands to set aside his friend’s words. “Alright, alright, back on topic. So Ryan’s house is a lab?”

“Didn’t look like one last time I was there,” Tony recalled, “but that could’ve changed. Or hell, maybe it’s hidden in his house somewhere, I mean, wouldn’t be the craziest building design in town,” Tony said, gesturing all around to the highschool turned castle.

“Knock on Ryan’s door!” Zach suggested as he punched a hole in the wooden table.

“Yeah we’re gonna do something like that buddy,” Clay told the big boy next to him whilst giving him a pat upon the back. “Sheri didn’t just give me the location; she said she’d help out.”

“I don’t know how I feel about having Ocelot’s lackey tagging along with us,” Tony gave his negative opinion of the girl.

“Well let’s see what Snake says, she’ll be meeting us at Mother Base after school today. Personally, I think we can trust her. Sure she’s become a bit more distant these days, but we were sort of friends in freshman year.”

“I mean…she’s never bullied me,” Tyler threw into the positives.

Zach used his splinter covered index finger to scratch his thinking noggin. “Is Sheri pretty lady?”

Clay gave pause and scratched his head, almost as if embarrassed to answer. “Well…yeah, I guess if we’re going by textbook terms she’d fall into the category of pretty lady.”

“Then she good!” declared Zach.

Seeing he was outnumbered, Tony shrugged with a sigh, “Guess she’ll be coming then if Snake gives the ok.”

So with the matter of Sheri and Ryan discussed and anticipated, Clay and the gang got back to enjoying their lunch hour. Clay and Tony proceeded with their usual routine of downing their respective beverages of Pepsi and Coke, enjoying the newfound company of Zach’s childlike antics (and casual property damage) as well as Tyler’s occasional useless WW2 facts and trivia. Words were spoken, food was devoured, and lunch came to an end, meaning it was once again time for classes of mixed subjects which would hopefully help later on in life.

They wouldn’t of course, and the boys knew this, so as soon as classes were dutifully sat through they all made a school yard dash for Tony’s vehicle. But while they were going off campus, another male young adult had entered the school grounds.

* * *

Justin, fooling himself into thinking the biting pains of withdrawal were finally becoming bearably routine, would be randomly struck with pain from simply walking to remind him that, no, he wasn’t, he was in a world where pain could only be stopped through the artificial means of morphine. But besides that, he was making good progress toward the one place he knew he could get some straight information.

Nearing the gymnasium Justin saw that there were a handful of dead enemy jocktroopers outside, with one or two liberty high jocktroopers mixed in. Getting to the metal double doors, Justin knocked upon the doorway, earning sore knuckles and a dull clang. The children were at his back, some looking around with interest, others with caution.

“Who is it!?” a male voice shout questioned behind the door.

“It’s Justin! What the fuck is going on around here?” the basketball professional inquired, glancing back at the wild feline themed sports members dead on the ground.

“Justin? Pfft, nice try bitch boy! Justin’s laid out in the hospital!” the voice responded in a disbelieving tone.

“It’s me asshole, open the fucking door and look!” demanded Justin.

Justin heard clicking and clacking before the door slowly creaked open. A tall beefy football jocktrooper looked out at the heroin addicted Justin, and his pack of children. “Huh, it is you. Bryce said you wouldn’t be coming back for a long looong time. Told the rest of the boys no one could pay your hospital bill so you’d be stuck there awhile or some shit.”

“Yeah, well I ain’t, so let me in. I need to talk to Bryce.”

The footballer hesitated and looked around. “What’s with the kids?”

Justin looked back and formed the answer, “They're uh…on the little league team.”

“Huh, well alright, get in here quick,” the football handler said, ushering Justin and his group into the large physical activity enclosure.

As they walked, Justin took in the sights of what remained of the Liberty High jocktroopers. They were setting up defenses around the doors, training with one another, and taking stock of their weapons, ammo, and balls. Considering how unusually packed the place was, Justin assumed nearly all of the major jocktrooper teams were holding down the metaphorical fort of the gym.

The footballer talked as they walked and walked as they talked. “Yesterday, we all got back from beating up some total pansies (and burning down their gym) over at Badger Canoe High, but when we got back we were ambushed by the riders of Easy High. Apparently that one nerd, Clay Jensen, teamed up with King Troy or some shit. They killed Marcus, Bolan, and most of Marcus’s army. No status on Zach, but his boys got wiped out too.”

“Clay did this!? That dork!?” Justin said in disbelief.

“Apparently,” the footballer repeated. “Anyway, since all that shit went down we’ve been held up in here. Bryce told us to sit tight while he figures this out, so that’s what we’re doing.” The tackle worn senior pointed over to a few meters away to the individual Bryce himself. “Talk to him yourself about it.”

And that is just what Justin and his entourage did, strolling boldly over to the highschool sports master Bryce. The wealthy ball champion spun around with surprise to see Justin before dawning his usual douche flavored smile. “Justin! Why didn’t you tell me you got out of the hospital broski? How ya been?”

“Because I lost my phone, and you’d know when I was getting out of the hospital if you stopped by to visit or pay for the bill, dick!” Justin stated.

“Dude in case you haven’t noticed, Tony and his virgin loser friend Clay have been causing us some major problems,” Bryce said with a rude scoff. “Also I _took_ you to the hospital so you should be grateful of that. Don’t know why the hell you expected me to foot your bill.”

“Because we’re allies? And teammates? And friends? And because you’re literally fucking rich,” Justin listed off reasons.

“Yeah, sorry my main man, just didn’t have the cash to burn that week, ya know?” Bryce said as his defense, not losing his smile of cock and greed.

“No! I really don’t!” Justin exclaimed, his past of poorness behind his words. The basketball boy took in a breath to regain his composure, quelling the fire in his heart about friends being there to help pay for unreasonably high health care costs. He had something more important on his mind. “Whatever, more importantly, where’s Jessica?”

Bryce’s next sentence caught in his throat, but his face didn’t alter from smiling. “Oh shit! That’s right you don’t know do you!?”

Justin immediately felt his heart sink, pushing out the question, “Know what?”

Bryce gave a twisted sort of chuckle. “Dude I keep forgetting how much you’ve missed! Man I hate that little nerd, but Clay and his loser friends sure do get shit done! Where to start…” Bryce paused in thought, almost as if he were recalling a killer football match rather than his co-conspirators dying. “Well Alex got axed at the talent show, Tyler got hired by Marcus but then turn-coated (not shocking), Courtney got killed, Zach’s missing, and like the boy’s probably mentioned Marcus and Bolan were killed here just the other day.”

“What about Jessica…”

“Bro it was nuts! I’m just walking into school, minding my own business tossing freshmen into trashcans and pissing in the hallway. Then I walk outside for a hot minute when I notice I stepped in something wet and goopy, and wouldn’t you fucking know it? It was Jessica! Splattered on the ground dead as a door nail! I looked down at my bloody shoe and I was all like ‘Ah fuck dude no way! Someone killed Jessica?! Must’ve been a crazy fight bro!’ ya know?”

Justin went stiff, stared at the snickering Bryce, and then dropped to his knees. JJ was immediately at his coach’s side saying something in a worried tone, but Justin couldn’t hear his words. _“He’s wrong…It’s a lie…Jessica isn’t dead….she’s not….”_

“What’s the matter broski?” Bryce asked casually.

“What…What’s the matter!?” Justin shot up in an instant and had his hands firmly dug into the collar of Bryce’s letterman jacket, an action which caught quite a few jocktrooper’s attention. “What’s the matter is that you just told me my girlfriend is dead you jackass!”

“….Oh…Right, forgot you guys were a thing.”

Justin grunted in anger and shoved Bryce away in frustration, the orphans hesitantly coming to his side to comfort him.

“Hey man don’t take it out on me! I forgot you two were all lovey dovey and shit.”

“How!? How can you be so passive about our friends and allies dying!?” Justin yelled at Bryce.

“Dude I ain’t heartless, I was super worried when I found you busted up man. And I took you to the hospital for the same reason. Sorry I didn’t go the extra mile and pay for all the expenses too,” Bryce finished with a bit of disdain in his voice.

The basketball aficionado did his best to recollect his thoughts in order to ask the most important question, “Who killed her? Who. Killed. Jessica?”

“Uh, who else man? Clay did her in too, with Tony’s help I’m pretty sure,” answered Bryce.

_“Clay…That fucking virgin dork…killed Jessica!?” _Justin could barely process in his own mind. It was then he knew what he had to do; without even another word, Justin turned around and began walking away.

“Hey where do you think you’re going bro?” Bryce asked, marching after his teammate.

“Where do you think? I’m going to gather my basketball boys and then I’m going to find Jensen and kill him!”

“Uh, no you’re not?” Bryce almost challenged. “Porter’s orders are for us to be on standby, which means you too. And you don’t have ‘boys’ anymore broski, they’re all dead or conscripted by Troy or me.”

Justin felt another loss in his heart at the news of his ball boy’s fate, but still spat, “Fuck Porter’s orders! I don’t give a shit anymore! Jensen is mine!”

Bryce gave a sort of incredulous chuckle. “Now broski, you know I like to bend the rules, but fucking with Porter isn’t smart. I really don’t want to have to hurt you my main dude, but I’m willing to tear up your letterman if it means reminding you of your place.” Justin was aghast that Bryce could even suggest such jock sacrilege. “We can kill Clay later bro, so why don’t you go sit your ass down and let me handle things, alright?” the rich jockster finished with a dismissive pat on Justin’s cheek.

Justin slapped Bryce’s hand away, staring down his teammate who was still in disbelief that Justin was challenging him. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit. To hell with Porter, and to hell with you. You don’t care about me! Not really anyway. The only one whoever did was Jessica and she’s dead now, and you don’t even give a rat’s ass!”

Bryce took another step forward, now even closer to Justin. “Yeah. I don’t care about her. She was a dime a dozen bitch. But you’re my _friend_. And I’d hate to have to send my friend back to the hospital so soon because he got angry about some chick.”

Justin was beyond being surprised by Bryce’s heartless words by this point, but he still grit his teeth at that last remark from his once thought valuable sport teammate. “JJ, you and the others go outside. Now,” Justin commanded to the young lad, not taking his eyes off Bryce.

JJ was about to protest but he knew that a good basketball conductor knows when to obey their coach, so he nodded and herded his crew quickly back outside past the jocks; still busy with their own busy ball business.

A handful of nearby sports soldiers finally took full notice of the disagreement between the two ball champions, and the sparks flying between their manly glares. Each one looked to each other before grabbing their guns and slowly slinking over just in case shit was about to go down.

“I’m out of here,” Justin stated without room for argument.

Bryce’s twisted brown and orange aura lit up around him. “Are you really making me put you in your place Justin? You know you can’t beat my Stand,” Bryce laughed, cocksure of his Stand’s strength against Justin’s balls.

“You’re right. I probably can’t beat your Stand,” Justin admitted, looking around to the other jocks gathering around to look out for their captain known as Bryce. “Guess I’ll just have to use the only thing my father ever left me.” Bryce’s head tilted ever so slightly at this uncertain thing. “A technique he taught me after I was first born…”

And before anyone had any time to properly think on Justin’s words, the basketball player had already heeled turned and was sprinting so fast out of the room one would be forgiven for thinking he was on the track team.

“I’m going to run away!!!” he yelled, not looking back to a momentarily surprised Bryce. The jock captain pointed and commanded his nearby boys to shoot at the maverick Justin, but the basket maker just pointed back with a shout of his own. “Great Balls of Fire!” and with that point came six mighty flaming balls to take down the jocks actively shooting at him.

Bryce considered summoning his Stand, but Justin was already out of range and barreling out the gymnasium doors. And out those doors he pulled JJ by the scruff of the neck and motioned for the other children to follow and don’t ask questions. Soon after running for a few miles, only having to evade a handful of jock troops who had bothered to follow, Justin found himself in a quaint American park for joggers and children who wanted to pretend the internet didn’t exist.

Falling onto one of the many graffitied poorly maintained benches, and then grunting from heroine craving bones, Justin could finally breathe for a moment. But JJ slid into view with questions on his breath.

“Soooo coach. What the hell was all that about?” the youth inquired, his little crew gathering around with curiosity in their minds as well.

“Nothing,” Justin bluntly said. “Just finally realized what a dick one of my ‘friends’ is. And…”

“Your lady friend is gone,” JJ finished for him, an underlying sympathy in his words.

Justin was on the verge of tears but held back as to not look like a weak nerd in front of the children. Now that he was out of the tense atmosphere of the once inviting gym, Justin’s ocean of emotions tossed and turned inside his head. He had to take it all in no matter how much it hurt; his boys were gone, Bryce was finally displaying his true colors, Jessica was gone, and Clay Jensen was the one responsible.

Gun resting over his shoulder, JJ had to ask, “So what now coach? We gettin’ revenge for Miss Jessica?”

The basket scoring master sat in silence and finally nodded slowly. “Yeah…I ain’t letting Jensen and Tony get off that easy! They’re gonna pay! I don’t need Bryce and his team’s help, this is something _I’ve _gotta do!”

“But you know we’re going to help regardless of what you say, right coach?” JJ said with a little smile.

Justin looked to the enthusiastic gun brandishing children, ready to argue against them joining him, but just sighed knowing there was no point. “Fine. But if you get hurt don’t cry to me about it. And remember, those two assholes are _mine_ to kill.”

“Of course coach. We’ll let you score the winning basket.”

“Now let’s go-! Ow ow fucking ow!” Justin cried as he stood; only to fall back onto the bench.

“Coach I really think you should take some heroin,” suggested JJ, “you’ll never get over this pain until you’re weaned off it.”

Justin didn’t want to shoot up, but his desire for vengeance outweighed the drug conundrum. “Fine, fuck it! Drag me to the restroom and find me something to tie around my arm so we can do this…”

“Don’t worry coach,” JJ eased with a held up rubber string, “we’re experts at this by now, we’ve got ya covered.”

* * *

Miles away, while Justin was heading for heroin land, Clay and the boys had drifted Tony’s once mighty vehicle into the driveway and rolled out of the ride onto their walking feet. Using those feet, the four friends entered Mother Base to find Snake and Otacon entertaining a guest. That guest being a certain revolver twirling gal.

“You need to throw it more and swap it between your hands while spinning it, what you’re doing isn’t bad, but it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” Snake commented about his table partner’s gun spinning.

Sitting across the way and puffing out her cheeks in disapproval of Snake’s disapproval, Sheri lost her concentration and dropped her revolver once she noticed the boys had arrived. “Oh you’re here! I mean…I knew you’d get here right about now.”

“Yeah…we just got here,” Tony said, clearly still uncertain of the female gunslinger.

“I hope you boys are hungry for top ramen!” chirped Otacon from the stove, cooking cheap but effective ramen.

“Zach like noodles!” Zach cheered hungrily and happily.

“Seriously?” Tony had to question the less than stellar meal.

Snake, sipping on his cup of cigarettes, pointed to the Tonester. “No complaining, we’ve had to make budget cuts around here while we recover our losses from the Liberty High siege.”

“We have a budget?” Clay asked with unknown cash.

Snake put down the now smoking nicotine coffee cup and answered like Clay was an idiot, “What? Of course we have a budget. How the hell do you think we pay for all this?”

“I wouldn’t mind knowing honestly,” Clay shot back. “Where does the money for the budget come from?”

Snake smiled knowingly while tapping his cup. “It’s simple. While we’re busy, I have the jocktroopers outreaching to the community.”

“I’m sorry? What?” sorried Clay.

Snake got up from his seat with his cup in hand and motioned out the kitchen window to some jocktroopers throwing around an ammo box like a football. “They sell cookies, wash cars, mow lawns, and do occasional plumbing jobs, all in exchange for cash and future donations toward their crusade of doing menial labor.”

Clay stared in silence at his mentor for a solid thirty seconds. “You see, you said words, but I still have no clue what the fuck you just said.”

Snake scoffed at his pupil and leaned against the windowsill, “Clay as a future Stand using sneaky super soldier you should really brush up on your PMC economics.”

Tony took all this info in stride and simply took a seat at the table to keep an eye on Sheri, while Zach was hounding Otacon so he could taste the noodle water. Tyler jumped into the conversation though, “Wait I’m confused too. Are you saying we pay for all these guns and ammo with cookies and pity donations from old people who don’t look too closely into what they’re donating to?”

“Pretty much,” Snake answered the photo expert.

“This doesn’t make any sense…” Clay said whilst gripping his head in confusion.

“It really does though,” Snake stated assuredly.

“Enough!” Sheri finally piped up. “You two can talk about your jock budget later, I’m here to talk about Ryan.”

Snake slithered back to his seat. “Right, she filled me in while we were waiting for you boys. While I often find Ocelot’s intentions questionable, at the moment I see no reason to deny Sheri’s assistance.”

“I assume you told Tony and those two what’s up?” Sheri asked to the still economically confused Clay.

“Yeah I filled them in on what’s going on,” Clay answered with a nod to the boyos.

“Good, then I suppose it’s time I let you in on something else.”

All the boys, Snake and Clay most of all, leaned in like a mystery gang to hear what the gun gal had to say.

“While I don’t know their Stands, I do know the last members of the Metal Gear conspiracy group.”

“Well spit it out lady!” Tony demanded.

“There’s Ryan obviously, Bryce-“

“Kinda knew that one too,” Clay commented, his pals in agreeance, except Zach who was too busy playing with the stove.

Sheri stared at the boy, annoyed by being cut off, but carried on, “And the ringleader. Porter.”

“The student councilor?” Tyler asked in dry confusion.

“How do you know this?” Tony follow up questioned.

Clay was a little stunned to hear this as well. He didn’t know Porter all that well, but on the surface he seemed like an average Joe, certainly not the death robot ringleader type.

Sheri struck an Ocelot inspired pose. “I spied on them; for quite a long time actually. My stealth and reconnaissance is another reason why Ocelot took me under his wing.”

Clay cut in again, “Wait why didn’t you tell anyone that our student councilor was apparently a super wealthy robot building ego maniac!?”

Sheri raised her red gloved hands. “Because my master didn’t tell me to? You guys would’ve figured it out eventually anyway; you took down the rest of the group without our help.”

Snake seemed to be processing the ringleader reveal differently than everyone else in the room, as if there was a serpent slithering in his uncertain thoughts. But he then appeared to disregard these thoughts and finally asserted his serpentine authority back into the conversation, “Student councilor or not it doesn’t matter. If this Porter is the one responsible for the creation of the new Metal Gear then he needs to be taken down.”

“He’ll also probably know who killed Hannah…if he didn’t do it himself,” Tony commented, dour eyes beneath his shades.

Clay shared a look with the Tonester at those words before turning back to Snake. “Right, then we’ll need to take care of his last two supporters first. So what’s the plan to deal with Ryan?”

With tobacco sticking out of his maw, Snake stated the mission, “We’ll head over to this boy’s lab once night falls and get him to spill the locale of this new super Metal Gear.”

“Who’s going?” Tony had to ask to check for car space.

“All of us. Except Blade Wolf and Raiden of course, they’re still getting repairs,” Snake answered, twirling his cup on his index finger before tossing it to Sheri to test her reflexes. She caught it, but Snake knew Ocelot would’ve caught it by continuing to spin it on his own finger.

“Everyone?” Clay emphasized with a point to the soup presenting Otacon.

“Nerds can be crafty,” Snake stated with scientific wisdom, “if we’re going into a nerd’s den it could be useful to have one of our own.”

“Agreed,” agreed Sheri, “if we’re doing this your guy’s way, meaning going in CQC and guns blazing, we could use your friend there for any security systems Ryan might have.”

“CQC and guns blazing?” Clay repeated. “You okayed that approach Snake?”

Snake leaned back, his chiseled chin radiant as ever. “Surely you can feel it. Our time is running out. If we don’t track down that Metal Gear and find a way to stop it we’ll be doomed. Personally I’d like to stake the place out, but we’ll just have to rush in there and get the info out of the boy. One way or another.”

The news got a shrug from the Tonester. “I mean we’ve got a pretty diverse team of Stand users, minus Otacon, so I don’t think there’s much Ryan can do to stop us. Security or otherwise.”

“Zach crush!” Zach roared as he stuffed his face with ramen.

“Speaking of Stands, what’s yours Sheri?” Clay asked the female jungle kitten.

“Really just gonna ask a lady that Clay?” Sheri said with a sharp brow raised.

“Oh! Well I mean you don’t have to if don’t want to…” Clay backed down.

Snake could only shake his head at Clay’s beta energy.

Sheri sighed, “Relax, I was joking.” A silver-ish black aura rippled around the girl as she closed her eyes and a Stand manifested behind her. The robotic like Stand floated behind the girl, lacking any sort of bottom half; ending at the ribcage and a bit of spinal column. The weird machine man had a smooth head, with silver sides and jawline, while the “face” appeared to be nothing more than smooth pitch black glass. It’s strange skinny robotic arms ended in hands that bore only four fingers; each finger being some sort of colorful syringe.

Sheri leaned in her chair as she posed. “This is my Stand. **Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger**. Using his needle fingers my Stand can inject someone and make them stronger, faster, more durable, or more precise and accurate. But only one of these things can be activated at a time and it’s at the cost of weakening one of those other aspects. For example I could make myself faster at the cost of making myself weaker, or I could make my body more durable at the cost of moving at a snail’s pace.”

Tony whistled, “Not a bad Stand at all. Hell, imagine how insanely strong Zach will be if we inject him!”

“My thoughts exactly,” Sheri thought in exactness. “Ah, but another caveat, I can’t go boosting all of you. Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger’s ability can only work on a maximum of two people at once.”

Otacon cut off the Stand lecture by slamming the Top Ramen he managed to wrangle away from Zach onto the table. “Alright, well I think you should all eat up to have plenty of strength for the Ryan lab raid tonight!” The nerd twirled out a ramen bowl for the female guest. “You too Miss Sheri.”

“Oh…Well thank you Otacon,” the girl thanked for the unexpected free dinner.

Free ramen dinner was passed around to the rest of the Stand using group by the Standless nerd. Quickly the entire gang, minus Raiden and his trusty hound, were at the dining table enjoying their noodly feast which they’d use to fuel their muscles in the upcoming pummeling of the local poet/douche Ryan.

Clay did take notice that Sheri seemed to have an awkward expression on her face as she observed her tablemates. Snake enjoying a cigarette with his meal, Tony messing with Tyler, Zach taking a bite out of his bowl; basically nothing Clay hadn’t seen before. Clay coughed on his noodles and turned his attention away from the girl once he finally realized her attention had shifted to him and his eyes of CQC focus.

After their cheap dinner the team went about their own personal pre-mission preparations. Tony was downing Coke, Sheri was having talks with Otacon about his knowledge stats, Tyler was trying his hardest to make sure Zach would learn to stop shoving forks into Mother Base’s electrical outlets, and Clay was with the master sneaky soldier himself. Snake felt that lately Clay had been focusing too much on his sword play and Stand play, which meant he’d been lacking on proper CQC exercises.

So Snake spent the afternoon trying to teach Clay all the fun different ways one can break the human wrist. Clay was astounded how many jocktroopers volunteered to have their wrists broken for the sake of training.

Time passed and night descended upon the town; making it the prime time for children (and two adults) to slither out into the darkness in order to break into a gay poet’s home and brutally beat information out of him. Tony took the reins of his automobile steed and gave Clay the honor of having the shotgun seat. A seat which was stolen from him by Snake, who gave his pupil an important reminder on the traditions of calling shotgun. So the baby Stand user just wound up in the cramped backseat with Otacon, Sheri, and Tyler (they unanimously agreed to put Zach in the trunk).

The drive to Ryan’s lab was rather short, mostly due to Tony breaking speed laws (speed suggestions he liked to call them), and the lab locale was much like Mother Base. A normal suburban home.

“Yeah this is the place,” Tony said with a look to Sheri.

Snake spat out his traveling cigar to ask, “Any clue at all what security will look like?”

“In terms of what he’s built himself I don’t know, but that’s why we brought your nerd friend. Wouldn’t be surprised if Bryce had some of his jocks guarding the interior though,” Sheri theorized.

“Other than Ryan’s Stand I doubt there’s much in there we’ve got to worry about,” Tony stated his opinion.

“Speaking of, do you know what his Stand is Tony?” Clay asked his pal.

“Nope. Must be a fresh user like most of the other conspirators.”

Already slipping out of the passenger seat, Snake combat rolled with his tranquilizer at the ready. “Let’s move.”

And move they did, to the front door to be exact. Snake was on the right with Tony at his back while Clay was on the left side accompanied by Sheri. Tyler and Otacon were catching up because they had to get Zach out of the trunk. Silently, the serpent named man snaked his hand forward to turn the pristine brass knob, only to find-

“Damn. He locked it,” Snake confirmed working house locks.

“Zach help!” Zachary bellowed, clearly having bolted for the front door the second he was let out of the trunk of Tony’s once immaculate hotrod. And Zach did indeed help by sprinting forward, Standless as he tackled his entire weight into the modern home door; which of course caved in and came off its hinges.

Then like some sort of special weapons attack team, Clay and company burst into the home with both weaponary and Stands armed and ready. For once since this bizarre revenge mission had begun for the Clayboy, he actually felt like they had the upper hand. He'd soon find out that even with a party of six Stand users they'd be in for an uphill battle. For the moment that they set foot on the premises, Ryan had already been watching them through his surveillance system; now with personal body guardians and Stand at the ready.

_To Be Continued --->_


End file.
